he had halted in front of a small two story house. Zoha from the backseat scanned the address on the stucco wall and matched it with the paper.

She had come to the right place.

As it was confirmed, she folded the paper in a square and put it in the purse.

"Sajjid baba, this is the house. Can you take out my luggage?" she said.

Sajiid climbed out of the car and went to the back. Zoha hung her purse on the shoulder and came out, too. She looked at the house with black sadness pregnant under her skin, eyes small as if she struggled to look through the hole. Her body was weak and thoughts were numb. She barely felt the wind around her.

"Zoha beti," Sajjid shook her from the position. "Your stuff."

She turned her eyes at him. "Thank you," she said in a dull voice.

Sajjid put forth the luggage even more closer to her. Then closed the trunk with a thump. The despairing look on his face made Zoha drop her gaze. She did not want him to blame her for leaving the house. He was like a grandfather. They had a very close relationship, but not a kin one.

"I will be really alone," he mumbled, looking down.

"I will miss you, Sajjid baba. I told bari ammi that I will visit. Soon."

"How will you go to university?"

Zoha thought about it. She never came to Yumna khala's house before, so she didn't know if they owned a car. The house from outside looked small, not having enough space to park big vehicle.

"Somehow-" She pulled the luggage and went to ring the bell.

"I can come here every morning to drop. It falls far away from here. Might get you late-" Sajjid was interrupted as the door swung open, revealing a girl, head covered with dupatta. Zoha hadn't met her before.

"This is Yumna khala's house?" Zoha asked her.

"Zoha. Yes this is. Aslam-e-laikum," the girl said, with a soft smile. She opened the door wider in a welcoming manner.

"Walaikum-Salam," Zoha replied. She looked around at Sajjid who had sat in the car. He waved at her and left. Then she went inside, carrying a slight guilt.

"How are you?" the girl asked. She was fair-skinned, tall as Zoha, with long, thick, light brown braid that reached her waist, slipping out from under her dupatta.

"I am good. May I know your name? Haven't met you before."

The girl stopped. "I am Shaheen. The oldest daughter."

"Oh."

They continued into the house. Another girl emerged from the room, curious to know who was at the door, followed by Yumna khala, who expressed her surprise at Zoha's arrival. She came forth and hugged Zoha in a motherly manner, like she found her long lost daughter.

"Zoha. How are you, beta ?" Yumna said, overwhelmed with happiness.

Shaheen and the other girl watched them.

"Theek hoon."

"I have been waiting for you. It got me worried when there was no call from you after you called the first time. How was the way?" Yumna endearingly looked at Zoha, examining her eyes.

"It was okay." Zoha managed to see the other girl, who was very quiet.

"What is the matter, Zoha?" Yumna's voice thickened with worry.

"Nothing," Zoha said. "I am missing dadi."

"You came here on your choice, right?"

"Yes," she partially lied.

"Then why does it seem like you are not happy. What is this sadness for? I am your khala, your mother's sister. There was no difference between me and her.Come in and sit. Relax yourself. This is like your home."

Zoha sat on the soft sofa. The living room was illuminated with fluorescent tube light, washing white over the walls. On the organized trolley sat jumbo old LG tv, speaking it's good condition; a wide mahogany shelf stuffed with books on one side and the fragile glassware on the other was standing proudly against the wall beside the tv. The off-white marble tiles that were kept immaculate with meticulous effort were cold and slippery clean under her bare feet. She looked around the house and discovered that there were three rooms on this floor and a kitchen, where aroma of stewing curry emanated from.

Yumna was sitting beside her. Shaheen went in the kitchen and appeared back holding a glass of water. She offered it to Zoha who took it without much hesitation.

"It was good that you came here," Yumna said.

"Thank you," Zoha said after drinking water.

"Have you met Shaheen and Fariqa? Fariqa come here."

"Aslam-e-laikum," Fariqa said. She was a pale and frail girl, cocooned in her shyness.

"You might not have seen them before. Fariqa is around the same age as you. Shaheen is couple of years older than her. There is Farhan younger than both," Yumna introduced. Her previous worry was erased as she talked.

Zoha felt awkward greeting them. She spoke with Shaheen at the door, but it lasted for only few seconds.

"Farhan is in school. Fariqa was supposed to be in university, too. But I said since you are coming it would be nice to stay home." Yumna exchanged glances with both of her daughters. "They woke up early to clean the house." She chuckled.

"Ammi, Zoha is staying in Fariqa's room, right?" Shaheen's voice cut the talk.

"Han han. Why don't you go show it to her? Fariha take her. Let her relax little for a bit," Yumna told.

"Come, Zoha," Fariqa invited her.

"Did you check the curry?" Yumna asked Shaheen.

"I lowered the flame. Have to give little more time to stew," Shaheen addressed. Then she disappeared into the kitchen, leaving a silent trace between them.

Fariqa ushered Zoha into her room, which was darkened with the drawn curtains. Things were organized and dustless.

Zoha stopped by the dressing table, perched her hand on the surface. Her suitcase was close by her. She couldn't resist looking at the small room. It was much different than the one back home. Furniture was placed very close to each other, barely leaving enough space. There were two single beds and a bedside table was in the middle of them. A wooden cupboard, paint faded, needing polish, covered one wall and the shelf stood adjacent to it.

"I usually sleep on this one, but you can choose whichever you want," Fariqa patiently spoke. Her words were coated in genuine kindness, which gave extra glow to her personality.

"I don't mind. I will sleep on this one." Zoha looked at her suitcase then, like thinking about where to keep it.

"You can put that over there. By the dressing table," Fariqa replied to the Zoha's questioning look.

Zoha left the suitcase next to the dressing table. There was a bathroom just at a small distance, with its door ajar.

"It must be hot out there," Fariqa said, eyes directed at the closed curtains.

"A little," Zoha said, rolling her attention.

"You must have come in the car."

Zoha's lips didn't move.

"There is the bathroom which you might have noticed. And as ammi said, relax. I will be in the kitchen. If you want to come you can come. I am learning to cook from Shaheen baji."

She waited to see if Zoha needed anything. Then as Zoha sat on the bed, quiet, she left the room.

The afternoon passed by smoothly. Zoha took a nap while everyone in the house did their own activities. The soft muttering came from outside the room, adjusting their volume to prevent the disturbance. The fan on the ceiling constantly whined as if it was tired of rotating; despite its low speed Zoha managed to sleep well.

Her eyes fluttered open when the door creaked on its hinges. The light from outside poured in, blending her in confusion. Her view was flashing white. When the door closed, a figure showed properly with her face and mid-long hair.

"Sorry didn't mean to disturb you," Fariqa whispered.

Zoha wondered for how long she had slept. She strangely looked around with a doubt. For a while she forgot she was at her khala's and Fariqa was her cousin. The face of hers was new and different to which she was not used to seeing.

"What time is it?" Zoha asked, upright on the bed. When she began to move, she found herself entangled in a light purple sheet.

"It's five o' clock."

Zoha's heart raced. She barely remembered when she took such a long nap as this one. How could she have slept so comfortably for so long? She reminded herself that this was not her bedroom. But it didn't make any difference.

"Nobody woke me up."

"We felt you were really tired. Ammi did not want to bother you."

"You all had lunch- probably. And I was not there."

"It's perfectly fine. If you are hungry I will take it out food for you."

Zoha pulled the sheet off her body and came out of bed. Her head felt little woozy. She used the bathroom, splashed cool water on her face and dabbed it with towel. When she came out, she found Fariqa fixing the bed that she had earlier slept on.

"I could have done that," she said.

"I am fine. I like fixing things second by second. And why should you do this? You are our new guest. Don't feel bad." Fariqa straightened back on her spine. A frivolous smile was playing on her lips as she was looking at Zoha.

In return Zoha smiled, too.

"You are very welcoming," she said to Fariqa.

"Don't mention it."

Zoha untied her hair loose open and looked at her familiar face again in the mirror. Her skin appeared fresh and nourishing from having proper sleep. From past couple of days she couldn't sleep. The absence of dadi, her faint, tender smell weaved thoughts in her head. She felt that at any moment dadi would call her to bring some water, or take out Quran for her from the shelf. She would be waking up to pray and her muttering sound would wake her(Zoha) too. It seemed to her that everything was like before. Nothing changed. But accepting that she was gone far away and would never come back was heartbreaking. It almost seemed impossible to experience a parting sorrow. Her biggest fear.

She slowly combed her hair, smoothing every strand. In the mirror she saw what Fariqa was doing. She had been very pleasant to her, making her feel every way comfortable and sacrificing her privacy by allowing her to sleep in her room. Zoha was overwhelmed with debt of her kindness.

"Do you like korma?" Fariqa said.

Zoha slid her hair away from her eye and said, "Yeah."

"We had that for lunch."

"That's nice. I like all types of foods."

"Then it must be hard to decide your favorite."

"Perhaps." Zoha garnered her hair into a ponytail and applied the hair tie.

Fariqa sat on the bed, and smilingly looked at Zoha's long, thick hair. "You have really nice hair."

"Thank you."

"What are you studying?"

Zoha came over and joined her. "Architecturing."

"That sounds interesting. What is one of the main subject?"

"Math. I chose it because I am good at it. And now it has become my passion. This week on Friday its my exams. Been studying for it. Hope I do good. What about you?"

"I am doing journalism."

"Media broadcasting? I heard little bit about it. Very different field."

"There are many different things in that field. I am particularly focusing on being a newspaper journalist. Requires lots of writing skills."

Zoha suddenly remembered that it was about to be Asr (prayer time). The clock was hung high above the tall cupboard. She fixed the dupatta around her neck and prepared to cover her head when adhaan (call to prayer) happened.

"What is khala doing?" she asked.

"She actually went to our neighbors next door. There is an aunty whose daughter-in-law was pregnant. She delivered a baby boy two days ago in the hospital and came home today. She went to congratulate her. I wanted to go see the baby."

"That's a good news. You are good friends with your neighbor?" Zoha's mood was getting better as she talked about different things. Her mind drifted away from sad thoughts. She wanted to keep up the conversation with Fariqa for on and on, because she was so humble and down-to-earth girl, unlike Manal who barely gave her a proper look and always possessed a haughty attitude.

"Yes. Really good friends. They moved next doors to us after we came here. We have been living in this house since I was born. Shaheen baji was four years old when we started to know them."

"Wow. That's a really long

"I know. I can never think about moving away from here." Fariqa looked around her room with deep compassion.

Zoha thought, I never wanted to move away from my house too. But I had to. Because there was nothing left for me. It barely affected anyone there that I existed.

"You own this house?"

"Yeah. When abba felt he had saved enough from running our small grocery store, he thought it would be better for our future to buy a land and built his own house. Better than paying rent every month."

Zoha noticed that Fariqa liked to talk a lot. She sure seemed shy, but just for that moment.

"How do you go to university?" Zoha asked.

"Meaning?"

"Um- like how do you travel?"

"Oh. I sometimes take taxi, sometimes bus. But I prefer taxi. Why?"

Zoha got quiet. Then said, "I was wondering. Since I don't know the streets from here. The way to my university. Well- I know the address. But still. So I wanted to confirm how to get there. What time do you get out?"

"Like eight forty five, around nine. Is yours early?"

"Mine is around eight thirty. But up to forty five it is okay. Can I go with you?" Zoha was afraid if Fariqa would mind.

"Yeah. Ammi wakes me up. She will wake you up too."

"I have exams so I don't want to be late."

The adhaan was called- the voice loud and proud blaring out of the bullhorn from the nearby Masjid. Fariqa immediately covered her head with dupatta and quietly lowered her gaze at the bed. Zoha did about the same and listened to the call with utmost respect.

After it was over, they got up and prayed together. By then Yumna had come home, stirring the clanking noise of utensils in the kitchen. She called Shaheeh who was busy doing the hand-embroidery, designing a pattern on her new clothes. Fariqa and Zoha finished their prayer and came out in the living room.

The day was still bright outside. On the arrival of evening, hot air was replaced with cool, suitable breeze. Kids came out to play in the alley, their noise splitting the quietness that was maintained throughout the afternoon. Fariqa took Zoha out in the alley and toured around the small neighborhood. Zoha was never accustomed to leaving the house and aimlessly walking on the streets. Since she belonged to rather a upper class family, they abstained from this type of lifestyle. It was considered ignorant. Instead they were raised differently. Hanging out only with the people from their social circle, going out on expensive dinner, owning branded things, going to places that were devoid of middle and low class people, and their kids followed what their adults did.

This was rather a unique experience for Zoha. She met with people who greeted her in friendly manner, treated each other like they were a family. This brought her an alternative to spend evening happily and actively. She explored her new surrounding, a new society that was far different than hers. She got to know Fariqa's friends. Fariqa strolled around chatting. And it wasn't awkward for Zoha to stay quiet because she was new.

When sky turned dark, everyone went back to their houses and streetlights were flickered on. Fariqa and Zoha came inside too.

In the living room, Shaheen was now watching a Pakistani drama. Her attention was bored into the tv screen, that she hardly realized they had come home. Yumna came out of her bedroom, clasping Quran against her chest, and wearing a long, silky praying scarf. She picked her nearsighted glasses from the side-table of the sofa and sat to recite the holy book. As Shaheen noticed her mother, she immediately shot a glance at the clock and switched off the tv. Then got up and vanished into her room.

At eight, Fariqa's father, Mustafa, came home. He was surprised to see that Zoha had come to their house, although Yumna had told him about it. But he forgot. He was a religious man, with graying beard, wore a scalp cap which pressed his hair into round shape, his clothes always smelling of attar (perfume that does not have alcohol) like he was coming from Friday prayers. He was also very patient and peaceful person, working hard and being grateful for what God gave him. When Yumna worried a lot in the times of financial crisis, he remained calm and never abandoned hope that things could be better again. And now the store he owned was running fine.

After Yumna was free from reading Quran, she ordered her responsible daughters to set the table for dinner. Later they all sat together and ate.

Zoha pulled out her school bag from the luggage and organized her things for the next morning. She got her two bulky textbooks from home. They were essential for her current semester. She had studied hard for the exams. And was hoping to do good. She only brought four pairs of clothes.

Fariqa changed into her night clothes and met her body to the comfort of her bed. Zoha sat and tried to remember if she was missing any of her things. Then as the satisfying thought crossed her mind, she laid back on her bed, suppressing the puffed pillow. On the ceiling the fan was lazily going round and round. Watching it for a while spun her mind and she began to feel dizzy.

She turned on the side, placing hand under her head and quietly assembled the thoughts of the day.

"You might not be comfortable sleeping right?" Fariqa's voice came from the other bed.

"Things change. And the biggest change took place in my life when I woke up on the day dadi died. It was like as if the storm swept away my happy life." Every night Zoha always thought about it, despite how much she tried not to uncover the sadness inside her.

"I am really sorry about what happened."

"That first night I remember- I couldn't sleep alone. I nearly slept on the stairs. Then Shehryaar came."

"Who is Shehryaar?" Fariqa asked.

Zoha was reminded of that night's moment with him. "It's my cousin."

"How many cousins do you have?"