Her hand trembled as she held the spoon and filled it with rice.

I never meant to bother bari ammi. What would she be thinking right now? She thought. That..... I don't even think about how I got her worried. I shouldn't have done it like that. Shouldn't.

Saliha was sitting across from her, looking relieved. She quietly ate, often throwing glances at Zoha, seeing that she was finally with her at dinner. Manal who had left with an attitude, made her realize how spoiled she had been. Sometimes it was fine to give love to the children and listen to their wishes. But it equally became unbearable when they grew up and possessed the same childish behavior.

Apart from the concern of Manal, Saliha was happy Shehryaar hadn't turn out like that. Responsibilities, and motherless childhood made him mature at an early age, and taught him to become independent. Zafar was a happy father. He didn't have to worry about his son's future. Shehryaar knew what was better for him. And that sometimes made Zafar miss the part about how kids complained to their parents: I want that daddy. Please? And when they didn't get it, they ran away and sat in the corner. Part of this habit existed in Shehryaar when he was really little. But it slowly faded away over time.

"How are your studies going?" Saliha raised a question in a building silence.

"Good. I have exams coming up," Zoha kept her tone neutral. She chewed her bite.

"Is it this week?" Saliha wondered if Manal was taking the exams too, because she hadn't talked about anything related to it. College studies were out her interest. It was as if she was forced to get an education so she could mark a good impression on her parents.

"On Thursday it's the first one."

"Must be studying hard?"

Zoha nodded. "I always review my notes. So In Shaa Allah it wouldn't be as bad."

"Students like you make a name. Keep it up. I would have to talk about this with Manal. I have barely seen her with pen and paper. Did she talk about exams with you?"

Zoha thought, then shook her head. "I don't think so. Her college is different than mine. Must have a different style of teaching."

"I hope she graduates safely."

Safely, Zoha thought. What did she mean by that? Was Manal failing again?

"Bari ammi, why did baray abu didn't come on dadi's death?"

"I called him. He was really upset he wasn't able to make it. His assistant manager was not there to take care of the work. And if he came without anyone to look after, it would have been......bad. I know business wasn't as important. Must have regretted it." Her voice fainted as she didn't have much to fill in the excuse.

Zoha listened. She wished Zafar-baray Abu had still come over. But there was no point of debating. And it showed her interference in adults' matter. So she stopped before posing another question.

After dinner, Zoha helped pick up dishes from the table. Nobody came to eat, not even Shehryaar who was talking to his friend on Skype, as they both were eating. Rumina washed the dirty small pile of plates, sparkled the silverware and pots stained with oil and leftover spices. Then swept the countertops clean, removing the utensils, putting the glasses on the stand, wiping the stoves, and returning the dishes back to the cabinets. The work for the day ended for her and she went to her quarter, taking a sigh and dabbing the temples with dupatta.

But Zoha continued with her work. As usual, she stayed up late and woke up early in the morning.

The next day, she wore dusty pink Kurta that had Chinese-style collars and wore brown pant-style shalwar. She braided her hair and fixed her matching dupatta- laced with pink border. Then she spread the curtains at the window to desert the feel of her absence and left the room.

She waited for Sajjid. The morning was bright and shining, unlike the past two days. She felt the warm heat against her skin. The color of her clothes suited the weather, light pink representing the softness and endearment, while the beige was more of neutral. She felt comfortable in them. Especially the way they were stitched, loose, but enough to fit her body without sticking tight against her skin.

Manal's car was in the driveway. Zoha inferred she was leaving for college late. After what she said last night, Zoha wanted to be away from her. She tried to forget what happened. It was Manal's childishness to speak rudely and disregarding other people's feelings.

She remembered, it was Manal's sixth birthday, and she was dressed up like one of those fairytale princess with a fancy delicate crown, and held a toy wand. Zoha was wearing sleeveless chiffon dress, not as fancy as Manal's. When the cake was cut, Manal let Saliha, Zafar and dadi have the bite from the piece and avoided Zoha. She began sharing with her school friends and Faiza her maternal cousin. Zoha felt really bad. She told dadi she wouldn't give the gift that she wrapped for Manal. And dadi said, it would make Manal upset. What impression would Saliha bari ammi and Zafar baray Abu have on her?

Zoha realized then, that she could only make a space in the house if she treated Manal's family nicely, despite how they treated her in return. She felt that having her own parents was much better than accepting her uncle and aunt as one. No matter how much they cared about her, and tried their best to treat her like their daughter, it was never the same. Only person who truly looked after her was her dadi. She did all she could to make her feel loved.

Zoha waited for Sajjid for a bit longer. The sunny morning made her think that she was already late. When she glanced at her wrist watch, it was eight o' five. Her class was to start at eight-thirty.

As she was standing, seeing where Sajjid was, Manal emerged from the back. She sashayed past Zoha, with her latest branded purse hanging on her forearm and keys jingling on her fingers. Her sleek, straightened hair were reflecting the sunshine. She reached her car and halted short before jabbing the key in the car door. Her eyes darted at Zoha and she suspiciously observed her, making her feel uncomfortable. Zoha shifted her gaze somewhere else to avoid looking at her.

Seeing that, Manal arrogantly walked back to her. Her lashes curled with mascara, lips gleaming with red gloss, and cheeks blushing pink, she stared at her.

"What are you waiting for?" she asked.

"Sajiid baba," Zoha replied decently.

"Oh yeah. You don't drive. I always go alone and nobody drops me that I almost forgot about you. Why don't even try to drive? Things are not as hard as you think."

Zoha maintained silence.

"You know yesterday, Shehryaar bhai dropped me to college," she said. "Like seriously, he could drive so good. The least you can do is learn."

"I didn't know you worried this much about me," Zoha politely mocked.

"You see..... I worry about everyone. Even Sajjid baba, unlike only about myself."

The more Zoha tried to avoid Manal, the more she was goading her to argue back.

Manal turned around to leave that she remembered something and turned back again to Zoha, who stood with her bag hanging on her shoulder and books wrapped against her upper abdomen.

"What have you decided about what I said last night? There isn't much left for you here," Manal said.

"What do you mean by that?" Zoha squinted in the beam of light, her hair glimmering light brown.

"I'm afraid you will mind if I tell you what I mean," she scoffed.

Zoha's heart escalated. What was possibly she was going to say to her? From last night she assumed it was going to be something mean and heart-breaking.

Manal scanned Zoha's worried face.

"Since your dadi is no more, who loved you so much. Do you still think somebody here would love you as much as her?" Manal ruthlessly spoke. "I have seen your Khala. She is a nice person."

"What will you get from kicking me out of this house?"

"My freedom with my family."

"When have I stopped you from having your freedom?"

"Sometimes your presence is enough to do that."

Zoha drifted the weight of books from one arm to another. Then averted her eyes in blend of anger and glum.

"Think about what I said."

Zoha replayed Manal's words in her head. She always expected Manal to do something like this. And now that her envious personality was exposed, Zoha didn't know how to respond to it. What could she do? How was she seen by Saliha? She was overwhelmed with the thought and position Manal had left her in. Nobody knew about this.

Would it stay hidden for longer?

How would others react if she suddenly left the house without any reason?

Fear bounded her, leaving her stunned.

She didn't take it as her fault. It was only Manal who thought that way about her. Saliha never depicted that she had a problem with Zoha. Instead she always took her side and posed Manal as a spoiled girl.

Zoha went to check the quarter for Sajiid after Manal left. Unlike usual he was not there.

"Sajjid baba?" she called him.

The worry ate her. She trembled at the idea of leaving the house in which she grew up and was surrounded by the memories of dadi. How was this possible? Was there nothing she could do to defend herself? She was barely close with her Khala. After her mother passed away, she lost connection with her other relatives, because there wasn't a need to reconcile with them. Although her khala rarely visited her, she was not any less stranger to her.

"Sajjid baba?" she called.

He was nowhere seen. She thought to check in the back quarter. But she had never went there. Her instincts told her to stop and wait little more. He would come back from wherever he had gone.

As she stood waiting, she winced as Shehryaar came out of the front door. He shielded his eyes from the sun as he stepped out in the driveway. Zoha thought somebody had caught her from the back. But then she relaxed.

He noticed Zoha standing five feet away from him, looking around for Sajjid.

"What happened?" he asked.

Nervous, she looked at him, hiding her emotions. She didn't want the matter of Manal to resurface. "I .. am looking for Sajjid baba. Have you seen him anywhere?"

"No. Why? He's not here?"

"I am running really late."

"Oh-oh. If you don't mind I can drop you," he offered, in his flannels.

"No, I will go with him. Was just looking for him. He will probably be back."

Shehryaar came forward. "You said you are getting late."

"I know. But I will go with him. I am used to it."

"I don't want to sound as if I am forcing you. But I am just trying to help you so you don't get anymore late."

Zoha pondered at the offer. She was always confused while making decisions.

"But you don't have the key to this car. Sajjid baba always keeps it in his quarter."

"Will it be there now?"

"Maybe."

"I will get it." He ran to the tiny quarter by the front gate. And came running back out with two pair of keys. "Which one do you think it is?" He scampered his gaze over Zoha's simple face, devoid of make-up. Despite that, she looked prettier.

"This one." Zoha pointed.

"Okay." When he came back from dropping the other key in the quarter, he remembered something. He sprinted up to his room and just in time returned with a photograph. "I found your photo by the study room."

Zoha was surprised. How come she did not realize that earlier? She always kept it in her folder, so whenever she missed her dadi she looked at it.

"Thank you," she said with a genuine kindness. For a while, her eyes were locked at him. Just when he looked up at her, she dropped them on the photograph.

"Sorry, I shouldn't have kept it like that. But you were busy."

"No- it's okay. Thank you." Zoha felt as if all her secrets were evinced.

"Now we should be get going."

Zoha was dazed out. She rattled her series of thoughts and sat in the backseat of the car.

"What would Sajjid baba think? Like he would be shocked to see the empty driveway." She fixed the dupatta on her shoulder, which got crinkled as she sat. "Nobody drops me beside him."

"Now you are making me feel guilty." He got out of the car to open the gates. Then came back and pulled out on the road. Once more got out to close the gates and then finally sped off.

Zoha maintained her eyes out the window. The hustling bustling city of Karachi led by honking cars, people jaywalking in the traffic, beggars coming at the window to sell flowers-roses, cheap-made toys and wiping windshields for money, was quiet in the morning. Only kids' school buses rolled by. The road they were going on was mostly empty. Few elementary schools popped up on the way-security guards standing at the gates. Vendors were preparing vegetables to sell, garbage men collected trash in the tarp bag, themselves covered in dirt and muck.

There was almost no talking between Shehryaar and Zoha. Shehryaar drove little faster than yesterday. He was getting used to it. Sometimes it got him confused with a modicum of different style of operating car.

He shattered the silence by saying, "Is your university near Manal's?"

"Mine comes before her."

"What is it called?"

"Indus Valley school of Arts and Architecture."

"Sounds interesting. I am guessing you are planning to become an architect," he chuckled.

"Yeah."

"Wow." He took glimpses of her in the rearview mirror, while his hands were clasped on the steering wheel. "How many years until you graduate?"

"One and a half year."

"Not long," he said. "Where do I take a turn from here?"

Zoha looked around. "On the left, then you go straight down."

He veered off to the left rather slowly.

"I was thinking, as far as I am here- meaning Pakistan. I should practice my driving."

"Please don't forget to tell Sajiid baba about me." She was constantly worried.

"Yeah yeah. I won't forget. He will know."

He drove straight down the long road, which never seemed to end from the distance. The sun in the east above the horizon was brightly shooting in their eyes. Zoha was safe behind the front seat, but Shehryaar fought to restrain through it and slowed the car's pace.

"Are you sure it's this way?" He doubted the path because of the light. He could barely see any other vehicles in the front.

"Yeah. After this block,take right," Zoha said. Nervousness was bulging her throat.

"I wished it rains," he said. "This sun is giving me a headache."

Zoha didn't comment. She waited for her university to come, which was not far now.

Shehryaar quietly drove when there was no response from Zoha. As they reached the university, the car came to halt. Doors were unlocked and Zoha climbed out, fixing the dupatta around her neck and chest. She carried the books and slung the bag on the same shoulder as always- the left.

"Thank you. Allah hafiz," she said without any expressions.

"I hope it's not that late."

"It's fine," Zoha said. She closed the door with a thump and hurried to the gate.

Shehryaar watched her go inside, until she disappeared. As he gained control of his steering and and pulled the gear, smile erupted on his lips.

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