K A I N A A T

Half of the house was a mess in general that I refused to acknowledge, which annoyed Zaidaan to no extent, and the other half was sprawled with unpacked bags and gifts which were yet to be wrapped.

We were to leave in two days, and I was already dreading going back home, not just because I was scared of Muskaan's reaction but also because I wasn't sure how I would manage everything.

Three weeks after Abaan had shot me instead of Zaidaan, although he had intended to shoot the latter, I regained my senses, opening my eyes to an unbearable pain that haunts me till date. By that time, Dad and Baba had already dealt with everything, and Abaan was nowhere to be found. Zaidaan on the other hand was a greater mess than me, who slept on a chair beside me for as long as I was admitted.

That surgery had restricted my diet and movement for a long time, during which Zaidaan had found a place for us to live.

When I first arrived in Italy, with a nine month old in my arms, this place was beyond lonely. For one, I was used to having people around me, and having just my daughter in the day, as fun as it was, it was also a bit alone.

And now, years later, as I plan on going back, I was dreading exactly what I was yearning back then, being among people, and my family.

Somehow it remained an accepted fact that there was no way Zaidaan was going to settle back home for as long as I lived, at least, as it was a very horrific reminder of everything that happened that night.

To say the least, I dreaded the sight of the Farooq-household, and to some extent even the house I grew up in.

I wouldn't blame anyone but myself for these fears, because nothing really was so horrible except the flashbacks that gave me nightmares and anxiety filled panic attacks in broad daylight.

Of course that was unacceptable by my husband, hence the moving out.

"Muskaan", I called out exhaustedly, "don't go so close to her."

The glass of juice in my elder one's hand was almost tilting towards the baby, and I sighed before helping her get seated at a safe distance from her sister. So far, Muskaan had been a protective elder sister, calling herself 'didi', when addressing herself to Mehek.

Adding the final touches to one of the last gifts, I sighed and leaned against the headboard of our bed. Just then, Mehek started crying, and I hurried to hold her as Muskaan watched me, sipping her drink. Muskaan was being a darling, and I kept a note in my mind to give her one-to-one attention soon.

The next few hours were spent in hurried packing and both my children sleep, by the time he returned home, Muskaan was stirring up awake .

He threw his blazer on the bed, loosening his tie as he gazed at me in wonder,

"What?" I asked.

He furrowed his eyebrows, "You look too tired."

I shot him a smile, "It's okay, I can manage."

He tsk-ed under his breath, "No, you can't. And I won't let you."

I rolled my eyes, "Don't be stubborn, Zaid. We have a lot of packing left to do."

He shot me a smile, "Yes, we do. But that doesn't mean I let you do things all on your own, that too with two children to handle. That's just unfair. Come on, get up and get ready. You need a day off."

I sighed, resisting his plea, "Look, Zai-"

"I have looked at you and the way your eyes look tired is not something I like, you will not work until I think it's okay for you to leave the bed. now, get up from there."

My eyes widened as I smirked, "Okay, but you won't be able to do all this."

He took my hand in his, "Anything for the wife,"

I chuckled and pushed him away as he unwillingly stepped away, giving me room to walk. He made sure I was comfortable before rocking Mehek to sleep. I kept an eye on him as he did all my chores with near-perfection. I knew he was a good cook, but watching him handle the girls was another thing.

Sure he spent more than enough time with our daughters, but I was the one who fed and cleaned them each day, and watching Zaidaan do my tasks without complaining, and by his own will, had me in awe.

Usually in a desi household, the boys in the family don't really participate in house-work, or lend a hand to those who did the work. It was considered a woman's chore, even if the house belonged to both of them.

Naturally, it seemed unfittingly awkward to sit and let him do the work, having watched all my life how my mother did literally everything without ever uttering an ungrateful work, for she said it was her only job.

Besides, it wasn't like she was looking over someone else's children, it was her family. I felt the same, but a need for a break, I had just realized, was necessary.

A few hours later, after my eyes had governed and memorized his every move, he plopped down beside me with a sigh,

"Truth be told, that was difficult. How do you deal with both of them crying at the same time?"

I laughed, "I don't, actually. I calm one of them down, whoever is willing to do it faster, first. And then I move on to the other one."

He made a face that said that's general and he wasn't smart enough to think of it, but I smiled, leaned in, and kissed his cheek,

"Thank you."

He furrowed his eyebrows, "For what?"

I shook my head, "Everything. I never thought you would be able to do that, it was my job after-all."

He shifted closer, wrapping an arm around me, "Hey, look at me."

And when I did, he leaned his forehead against me, "That isn't your job. It's our job. This is our family, and everything you will do, I will do it too."

I chuckled, "Okay."

"Besides," he continued, "the fact that some people don't let us do work at home, it doesn't mean we're against doing it. Sometimes, both sides are mistaken."

I looked up at him, "Alright, I get you. This entire thing is sexist."

Fiddling with his shirt, I rested my head on his chest as he said, "In-fact, why don't you start working again?"

I shook my head against him, "No. The kids are small, and I know it's okay to leave them, but my heart isn't willing to leave them alone. Besides, I like being home."

He looked down at me, "Sure?"

"Sure."

Silence fell over us, before a tiny sound of Mehek waking up separated us. He stopped me before I could get up, and I shook my head, wondering how long this ban would go on.

***

I placed my mug of coffee on the bedside table,

"So how long is this," I paused to fly my hands around, "ban is going to last?"

My husband smirked, "Until we reach back home."

I gave him a look that said I was tired of sitting idle, since we still had that day to pass.

I said nothing, but cuddled Mehek closer, while Muskaan jumped up in the middle of the bed, cuddling closer to me.

I pulled her towards me, kissing her head,

"My jaano,"

Right then and there, I knew, was where my heart lay. With four of us so close by, doing nothing and yet so happy, was where my heart lay.

The same heart, that I didn't know would be in so much turmoil soon.

***

"Zaidaan!"

I buttoned-up my abaya, pinning my scarf in place as I called out again,

"Zaid!"

He brushed in with ease in his formals, and I rolled my eyes,

"Seriously? Formals for a ten hour flight?"

He narrowed his eyes, "You know I hate wearing casuals anywhere outside."

I shook my head, handing him one of the pull-along bags,

"We're all ready, everything's done. Let's start,"

He nodded my way, and we muttered a Bismillah under our breath.

Reading all the prayers and blowing over the kids, I picked Mehek up in my arms, who was now nearly two months old, and held a sleepy Muskaan's hand.

She clutched mine, whining inwardly,

"Where a we going?"

I smiled down at her, "Home."

She unwillingly walked ahead, and upon seeing Zaidaan hopped up on him, who picked her up and made her sit on his lap as I settled beside him.

As usual, we reached the airport on time, thanks to Zaidaan's punctuality. We got through fast, and soon enough were in for take off.

He intertwined our fingers and gave my hand a squeeze, and I returned the gesture. Muskaan then started crying, and he took Mehek from me while I pulled Muskaan closer to me.

Muskaan hated travelling, and this was always an issue. She wrapped her small arms around my torso, and rested her head on my chest. I engulfed her in my arms, running my hand over head and muttering comforting words to soothe her down. She fell asleep nearly an hour later, and I handed her to Zaidaan, knowing she would wake up if I tucked her in bed.

And just then, Mehek's voice wailed, and I gave a horrified look as I picked her up before Muskaan could wake up.

This was going to be a long flight.

***

It was nearing dusk when we landed, and a midnight blue sky had blanketed us by the time we reached my in-laws.

The wedding was just in a week, and half the house already twinkled with golden fairy lights. Muskaan, who was previously sleeping, stared in awe at the house she belonged to,

"Princess home?"

She asked, her mouth a small 'o'. I chuckled and ruffled her hair.

Before we could even take a step further, a very hyper bride-to-be ran outside, her arms flailing around before she practically jumped on Zaidaan. Zaid tumbled back, but caught his sister in an embrace as a laugh escaped him,

"YOU ARE HERE!" Inaya screamed, "ALL OF YOU ARE!"

I laughed as she gave a low scream and rushed to me, but stopped a few inches away when she saw Muskaan's not-so-friendly expression, and a baby in my arms.

Her features changed expressions every second, and Inaya seemed like she would cry any second.

I extended my hand to give her a side hug, and she gladly accepted, caressing a hand over Mehek's head,

"She's beautiful. Muskaan is too. You all are. Ohmygod, you are here."

She looked at the four of us in bewilderment, as if she couldn't believe her eyes.

That's when I felt a pang of guilt, for I was the reason we hadn't met in so long. As Inaya held my hand, probably reading the expression on my face, I gave her a sad smile. She shook her head, and I knew she had read my thoughts. Zaidaan took in a deep breth,

"Everyone's home?"

Inaya smirked, "You have no idea."

I raised an eyebrow at her cheeky tone, but she led the way inside.

Zaidaan picked Muskaan up, afraid that she might start crying for she wasn't used to having people around her, and I glanced down at Mehek, tightening her blanket as winds flew by us.

As we crossed the threshold of the house, Zaidaan placed a comforting arm around my waist. I licked my lips as the doors opened, and Inaya rushed in, standing beside Baba as my eyes widened on seeing my parents.

Sami bhai burst the party popper from behind us, and I kept a hand on my mouth,

"Seriously? All of you?"

They laughed at my reaction, and I stepped forward to greet everyone. Muskaan's cheeks tinged pink when everyone praised her, and Fariyal was the first to take her from Zaidaan. I cautiously watched Fariyal try to converse with Muskaan, who just stared at her with a blank expression.

Muskaan then looked my way, and when I nodded, she relaxed a bit in Fariyal's lap, and the latter kissed the top of her head, an unknown expression on her face.

The tension was then lowered as everyone peeked at Mehek, taking turns to hold her. Meanwhile my own mother held me in a hug longer than others, and for the first time in my life, my dad kissed my forehead.

I stepped back, unwilling to get too much into my emotions. My mother-in-law was in awe with Mehek, and prayers of happiness were showered upon the four of us.

I eagerly hugged my brother, who lifted me off my feet for a second. Sahifa hugged me, now a lot taller than ever before. Sahil was by Fariyal's side, staring down at the invader of his own age,

"Sahil loves his Fariyal phuppo, he's jealous."

Bhaiya told me, and I chuckled in his arms. Mehek was now back in Inaya's arms.

I made my way to Sahil's side, and kissed his cheek,

"Hi, Sahil."

He stared at me just the way Muskaan stared at Fariyal.

Muskaan then extended her arms towards me and Sahil made himself comfortable in Fariyal's lap, glad to mark his property. Me and Fariyal laughed, and she stood up to give me a hug.

"I don't care, Mamma," Khalifa Bhai yelled, "I will not let my sister live in that hellhound. Fariyal, don't care about anyone except you. don't care about what people will say, I have no problem with keeping my sister with me in our home."

"Khalifa! Don't speak in anger."

My brother had turned to my mother in less than a second, so fast that my eyes blurred at the movement.

"Ma," he was trying so hard to stay calm, "Do you not see their faces? do you not see how Kainaat can barely sit, let alone move? Do you not see the pain these two have hidden from us for so long?"

My brother now glared at everyone in the room, except t me, Fariyal and Husna,

"Does anyone see anything?! This has been going for an year, that douche shot Kainaat and you think I'll let him be my Fariyal's husband? Heck, he didn't even treat Fariyal as a human, if it wasn't for Zaidaan, Muskan wouldn't even be here."

Sahar Bhabhi stepped forward, placing a hand on his arm. Comforting. Warning.

Dadijaan continued her zikr, her eyes staring at everything that was happening.

Fariyal's tears dripped down effortlessly down her chiseled skin, her hair up in a messed-up bun, her dupatta barely on her shoulders,

"Fari," Bhaiya held her hands, "Don't hurt yourself."

The girl in question looked up at me, and even in my dizzy state, I saw her red, puffy eyes, asking, thinking, questioning if her decision would affect my life. Fariyal feared divorce, she feared a life where she would be free, yet be caged in society's taboo of divorce. She feared losing things that weren't hers, she feared becoming what she would never be; a burden.

And I knew like every other time, she was thinking of everyone but herself.

"Fariyal," I managed to croak out, and Husna reached out to hand me a glass of water,

"Don't think about anyone, but yourself. One word from you, it will either make you, or break you."

She instantly dropped her gaze and cried harder, as Khalifa wrapped his arms around his sister, his expression hard, his veins protruding on his forehead. For the first time, as my older brother motioned for Husna to come closer, and held mine and Husna's hands in his free hand, while the other supported Fariyal, everyone knew there was an unsaid promise being made here.

A promise to protect the three of us, at every cost, as a big brother.

"I," we heard Fariyal's weak voice, and held our breaths,

"I can't live with him," she finally let out, and I passed a silent agreement and prayer in my head.

She will never, ever live with him again.

"And you never will." Bhaiya said, speaking my thoughts. The only sound after that, was of Fariyal's silent sobs, as she broke apart at every glance she took my way, blaming herself.

That was the memory which flashed before my eyes as Fariyal's arms enclosed around me, her familiar scent making me blink back the tears I had been holding for so long.

And yet, in my sister's embrace, I felt everything. I felt her wounds weigh heavy on her soft palms, her back hunched from when the cruelty of her fate had hit her. Her eyes weren't as teary or painful as before, and her calm demeanour was back. She no longer had a victim's scar across her face, for it shown with slight confidence that was yet to blossom within her. Fariyal was better, but she was yet to reach her best. And how in nearly three years, she was still fighting her past with sanity, all the while without a single question on her destiny, was something I hoped I would be able to do.

"Where's Husna?"

Sahar bhabhi smiled, "She's at home with dadi."

Before I could ask why were they at home, I was distracted by Inaya's call to make Sami bhai understand that he can't really see her until the wedding.

It was highly amusing to watch her tease her own groom.

The house buzzed with energy until Muskaan fell asleep, and she had surprisingly mixed well with everyone, without throwing a tantrum or sticking to either me or Zaidaan.

Just as me and Zaidaan were about to carry them upstairs, to our room, Inaya piped in behind us,

"Bhai, wait, I prepared a new room for the four of you, come here,"

I shot them a quizzical look, but nevertheless followed her, and she led us to the far corner of the house. And suddenly, the location clicked.

This was the same room I had first found Zaidaan painting in, and even if it looked much more large and neat with a master bed and everything, I could recognise it.

She gave sheepish smile as the door creaked,

"Sorry, it's just that no one used this room after you went away, Bhai," she said, looking at Zaidaan, "I just cleaned it up and adjusted the room to your liking, Kainaat, because I knew you wouldn't let Muskaan and Mehek sleep in a separate room. This room is much more spacious, your bags are already here and," she bit her lip, contemplating whether she should speak ahead, "I just thought this would be much...more better."

It took me a minute to understand her.

She did all of it, just so I wouldn't be reminded of the incident which had occurred in mine and Zaidaan's room. Just so I wouldn't remember that night.

I gave her a grateful hug, "Thank you so much, Inaya."

She grinned, "I know, I'm the best. Oh and Zaidaan, your paintings are in the other store room."

Zaidaan nodded, and kissed Inaya's forehead, "You must sleep, or you might transfer your energy to either of these two," he said, pointing at me and an already asleep Muskaan, as I placed Mehek at a safe distance from her.

Inaya chuckled and went away, and I narrowed my eyes at him,

"Transfer her energy?"

He bit his lip and pointed at the children, "Let's not start now."

I shook my head, and he pointed towards the door, "I'll just go check my paintings and come,"

I motioned for him to wait, "I'll come too."

Before he could protest, I walked out and shot him a cheeky smile.

He followed me with a frown, and it felt like we were venturing somewhere illegal with the way he kept shushing me. Naturally, it didn't look like we were parents two children.

Upon reaching the 'other' storeroom, I looked around at everything old that surrounded me. The spider webs were almost everywhere, and the only light inside was from the moon outside.

And in this dim-lit room, it was not hard to miss the things that had been stored, probably since generations.

"That box," Zaidaan whispered, pointing at a small rectangular box, "it has all of my grandparents' letters to each other, and also the pens they used."

I tilted my head to take a better look at it, realizing Husna would probably steal something like this if she was ever to raid a house.

And that was when my eyes fell on a black and white painting.

It took me a minute to register that painting was a portrait of me,