Zafar was going back to California. He had stayed in Pakistan for two weeks. It was enough since he had to manage his business. This time Zoha came too to see-him off, because Saliha and Manal were coming and nobody was at home.

They walked to the airport terminal, while Shehryaar labored Zafar's luggage and carried small handbag. Zafar's flight was at three in the afternoon.

"Daddy, I will miss you," Manal said. "You always come for such short time." She embraced Zafar, not wanting him to go faraway.

Zafar patted her back and smiled. "I know, sweetheart. I am helpless. Who will handle my work. I have hundred things to look at."

"I really want to visit California," Manal whined, insisting on the same wish.

"That is in fact a great idea." Zafar softly pulled her away from his body and looked directly in her eyes. "You can plan a visit with your mummy."

Manal glanced at Saliha. "Mummy, will you let me go?" She tried to act innocent.

"Sometime later." Her response came out readily.

"Look, daddy," Manal said. "She always says that."

"Well she is right," Zafar said.

"Daddy?" Manal surprisingly looked at Zafar. "You too?"

"Your mummy is not saying no. If she doesn't let you, then I will talk about it."

Saliha's sunglasses were worn on her head since she was out of sunlight. She gave a stern, typical look of a mother to her puerile daughter.

The announcement was made by a sweet-accented lady in Urdu. The flight timings were reminded. Zafar was flying in Emirates airline, which would take off in thirty minutes.

"Manal, your daddy is getting late. Didn't you hear the announcement?" Saliha said.

"Dad, do you need a trolley?" Shehryaar asked. The airport was less crowded on a weekday.

"Yes. I don't know how long it will take for the scanning and checking. According to the timing it shouldn't." The luggage was standing by him and handbag was sitting on the floor. While Shehryaar went to get the trolley, Zafar gained a look at Zoha, who was quiet with no tongue in her mouth. She was dressed in one of her light-colored shalwar kameez, arms folded below her stomach. "Zoha, I wish I could've stayed longer." He put his hand on her head. "Take care of yourself. And stay happy. Allah give you long life and make you successful." He bestowed a dua upon her.

"Jee, baray abu," Zoha said.

Zafar heartily smiled.

"Don't ever feel that we have abandoned you or ignored you after dadi. You are part of our family which I shouldn't have to remind."

Zoha didn't say much. She avoided to look at the jealousy in Manal's eyes, that multiplied each time something good came out of Zafar's mouth for her.

"Zafar, I think-" Saliha interrupted.

"Yes," he replied to her. Then returned his eyes to Zoha. "Remember what I said. If you ever want something or miss your daddy, don't forget he is just a distance away through your phone call."

Blankness on Zoha's face made it hard for her to smile back. She was very introvert and shy.

Shehryaar came back with a trolley. He placed the luggage and handbag on it. Zafar pulled it on the front and clasped on the bar. Before he could make a move, Manal hugged him tight.

"Daddy, I will miss you," she said.

"Me too."

She pulled apart and let go of him at last.

"Take care of yourself," Saliha said to Zafar. "Don't take too much tension of the business on your head."

"Okay okay." He broke into a big smile. "Now I should be going. Already getting late."

"Allahhafiz, daddy," Shehryaar said.

"Allahhafiz." He said to everyone and pushed the trolley and began to descend away.

Zoha waved at him when he looked back. Manal held Saliha's upper arm and rested her head on her shoulder since they both were nearly the same height. She watched her dad leave; eyes sinking in the sadness.

After Zafar disappeared inside, every inch of him of out of sight, they began to leave.

As Zoha came out of the car, gloominess touched her face, seeing the house. Zafar was no more here. He had also left her alone. He was the one with whom she felt comfortable and most of all protective. But from who? She couldn't admit even to herself. It made her feel guilty and insecure, like she was weak and coward, vulnerable to defend herself. Why was she like that? What made her so small in front of Manal? That she had parents and Zoha didn't, who could support her.

Zoha was told by dadi, that people who are well-mannered and have good reputation, they rule in the eyes of everyone. But despite she owned those qualities, she was a loser in her own view. She began to call herself dumb and stupid. She was no good. Nobody needed her. They barely liked her to call her name. She felt she was alive just because she was breathing.

She stepped inside the same house, that promised to give her shelter after she lost her parents. But people in them started to make her feel like an outsider. The change in their attitude were noticed since the day dadi winged away to heaven, leaving Zoha forever alone. It did not feel real to her that she was still perhaps adored by someone. As much as her presence hung like a question in the air, she stopped believing in the existence of love. Even if it existed, it was restricted by boundary. Not endless like the true one, when even the sadness reminded her of the indescribable compassion.

She decided to go to her room, finding purposeless to join Saliha and Manal in the living area, who were trying to cool down from coming outside. It was blazing hot. Now all they wished was for invigorating rain which wasn't going to shower on them anytime soon. As much as it took days and days for a fruit to ripe, the clouds needed time to become heavy with precipitation.

As Zoha was heading to her room, quietly, Manal looked at her over her shoulder.

"Zoha, can you bring me a glass of water?" she said. "It's damn hot."

"I think this AC needs a filter cleaning," Saliha pointed. "It isn't giving much cooling."

Zoha was dryly surprised. She stood there looking at Manal and especially Saliha who hadn't spoke to her even once in the car on the way back from airport. She seemed to avert her eyes on Zoha.

Manal ordered Zoha for the water again, as she was lost in the tracks of thoughts. Shehryaar was there when he heard Manal sending Zoha to the kitchen, which she went without a word of complain.

Anger rose in his expression.

"Manal, why do you order Zoha to bring you things?" He came forward to her. "She is not some maid. And if it is that important, then call Rumina or do it yourself," he reprimanded.

Manal turned around sitting on the sofa to see Shehryaar. "Bhai, what's happened to you? Why are you getting mad at me?"

"I wish you had understood after the first time."

"Relax. I didn't tell her to bring a mountain for me." Manal tried to seem like it was not a big deal, as much as it was to Shehryaar.

"How would it had made you feel when there were so many waiters and somebody asked you to bring something for them? In front of everyone?" He reminded her of what she did on engagement.

But she turned to Saliha and said, "Mummy, why is bhai acting like this with me?"

"Exactly," Shehryaar said. "When you feel bad doing it yourself then don't order others to do it for you."

"Why are you making this a big deal?"

"Because it is a big deal. It's better to cut the wild root before it grows."

"You are calling me wild?" Manal was astonished.

In the middle of the argument, Zoha came with a glass of water. But she didn't go near Manal, who looked mad and red. Her expression were enough to ward off the threat.

"You know it isn't exactly what I said."

"Am I your sister? Or she is your sister?" Manal said, sharply glimpsing at Zoha.

Shehryaar looked at Zoha. "It's not about who is my sister. I treat everyone fairly and give them the respect they deserve." He was solid on his last statement.

"Then according to that you are respecting me the least." Manal spat her anger. She was truly pissed, nostrils flaring.

"Do you really think I meant that. For god sake. Grow up and stop being silly."

Saliha watched them, awestruck. It seemed she never expected her kids to adopt this behavior.

"No, it was good you told me your true feelings," Manal said, suppressing the bile. She tightly crossed her arms, chest filled with relentless hatred. She refused to talk back on Shehryaar's face.

"What is going on with you two?" Saliha raised her voice.

"Mummy, it's all bhai. There was nothing before he started talking."

"Mind your tongue, Manal." He warned her.

Zoha ventured to put the glass of water on the coffee table, near Manal. Then backed away before she was said a word.

Manal got up, aggravated and fiercely looked into Zoha's eyes. "This is all because of you. Congratulations for turning my brother against me." She smacked the blame on her face.

"Stop it!" Shehryaar yelled.

Manal ignored him and continued gazing at Zoha. Her hand balled in a fist. She shoved the glass of water from the table and it frighteningly shattered on the floor.

"I don't want to drink your water," she said and deserted everyone dumbfounded.

Zoha's chest pounded frantically. She could feel herself shaking.

"Mummy, tell her to fix her attitude," Shehryaar warned in a portentous tone. "Before something worse happens."

"Calm down, Shehryaar." Saliha retorted him instead. "I don't know what's going on in this house." She held her head, exasperated.

Shehryaar surged to his room.

"Oh khudaya!" Saliha barely noticed Zoha and only reacted on what happened. She carefully walked past the mess of broken glass and went upstairs, as if this was the solution to the problem.

Zoha watched everyone leave her. She was alone again. The jagged pieces of glasses were glistening in the spilled water. Who was going to clean that up? Nobody thought of it, like it was invisible to them. She pulled back the dupatta in a knot and crouched down. She was still quivering. Uncontrollable heartbeat kept her uneasy. The influence of shock was big and terrifying on her.

She competed to stay still by taking a deep breath. Her hand gradually advanced toward the sharp piece. She picked it up and put it near her. Then reached for another one, the biggest of all, in which she could gather the small pieces. She mulled at the clear liquid on the floor, seeping into her toes. There was no difference between her life and a broken glass. She never felt whole as one. Her emotions and feelings were scattered. Nobody paid attention to her.

But an unnamed feeling gave birth in her. She wasn't sure if it would last longer like others. Whatever happened just minutes before was for one reason. Her silence had the support of a voice. Shehryaar spoke for her. He faced the situation that she was too afraid to ever encounter. He gave her the respect and let others know of her importance in the house. He tried to stop the unjust treatment with her. His actions made her feel supported. She felt somebody still valued her. Saliha didn't say anything to Manal in this matter. She stayed silent and never even looked at Zoha.

Lately, Zoha noticed the change in Saliha's attitude. She barely talked to her. Zoha wondered why was she acting that way. Had she done something wrong? But she couldn't think of anything.

Things in the house were slightly different after the engagement. But since Zafar was here, it didn't seem to highlight. Right after he left, not even a day passed, this happened. Manal broke the glass shamelessly. Now Zoha was cleaning the mess. She thought it was her fault who listened to Manal and not said anything. But if she did then what would had happened?

Worse.

Near the coffee table, there were pieces of glass, which were too small to pick. She went to the kitchen to throw the big shards in garbage and brought the broom and dustpan. Then swept the floor.

After that she finally went to her room. Her back of the kameez was drenched in sweat. It was too hot. The air was thick with sticky heat. She turned on the AC and sat on the bed, taking a proper breath. Just under an hour, things became so hectic, that her head began to spin. She couldn't think of anything beside the broken glass.

She closed her eyes and tried to relax. The room was getting cooler. It made her feel better. But headache gave way. She massaged her forehead, lying back on the pillow.

Just after the sunset, Zoha performed Maghrib prayers and made a dua; Allah put sympathy in Manal's heart and erase all the negativity in her mind for me. You are the only one who can give her hidayat and make her humble and kind. Allah make my future bright and successful. Give me strength to face hardships in life and keep me on the right path towards you. Allah you are the most gracious and merciful. Accept my prayers and make my faith even stronger.

As she was done she put the prayer rug on the shelf and took off the prayer scarf. She didn't have any work for college, so she slept in the afternoon. Her headache was gone by the time she woke up. She grabbed the dupatta from the bed and covered her chest, watching herself in the mirror. Her hair were kind of messy, sticking out of her ponytail. She fixed them and tucked the strands behind her ear.

It was dinner time. But at the table there was no one. The plates were placed in front of each chair, with no food dish in the middle. Rice nor curry. The same trio of salt, black pepper and sugar, and basket of fruit. The light in the dining room was dim, eaten by shadows.

She didn't know if anyone was going to come and have dinner. Noiseless house kept an eerie silence. She could hear the sound of her own breathing. She stood by the table and thought. Then as nothing better came to her mind than to eat alone, she went to the kitchen. There she took out some rice, which seemed like it was cooked in the late evening, because vapors were hanging under the pot lid. It smelled fresh. Then she took a scoop of vegetable curry, different from regular beef and chicken dishes.

She ate alone on the table, often looking in the back to see if anyone would join her. But no one. Coincidently Rumina wasn't around. Most of the day she did her work in the house, then later went to her quarter.

When Zoha was done she turned on the faucet to wash the plate. As the water hit her finger, she winced back. There was a cut. She hadn't noticed it since it did not bleed. Neither it was that bad to cause pain.

She put the plate in the sink and went to her room. In the bottom drawer of the Chester, there was a pack of bandage. She taped one around her finger, and crumpled the wrapper. When she went back downstairs to the kitchen, she balked at the entrance. Shehryaar was checking the pots by taking off their lids. As she came in at the sink, he leapt his attention to her.

"Did you have dinner?" he asked. His eyes looked back and forth at the plate in the sink.

"Yes."

"How about everyone else?"

"I ate alone. There was no one at the table."

"Oh." His mood was much calmer. "Did someone call you?"

"No. I came myself."

"Have you seen Rumina? I don't know where she is."

"Haven't seen her either." Her bandage got wet and the red liquid began oozing out from the prick. She tried to press it under her thumb.

"What happened to your finger?" His attention was directed at the finger in the sink.

Zoha didn't want to show it to him. "It's alright. I put a bandage on it."

"But it's bleeding. How can you be alright?" He took her finger in his hand.

Zoha was extremely uncomfortable. Her heartbeat quickened. She tried to retrieve her hand from him. But he held onto her finger.

"Please, leave it. I said I am fine," she said. Her habitual politeness failed to leave her voice.

"How can you be?"

"Please?" she said, slowly pulling it away from him.

He let go of her hand. "Okay." But his heart was still in her finger, as he kept looking at it. "Promise you would put something on it for it to stop bleeding. It has already gotten bad."

She was breathing hard. Sweat began to accumulate on her body. Layer of nervousness drained from her skin, making her feel slightly numb.

"I- know," she stuttered. Her hand was trembling from the touch of Shehryaar's hand. She could feel like he was still holding her.

"How did it happen?"

Zoha kept quite. Silence became awkward.

"Did you...try to......pick up the broken pieces of glass?" He pried the reason out of her, looking into her eyes as she kept them lower.

She felt humiliated to do such thing. But how could he have possibly thought this was the cause, she wondered. He wasn't even there.

"I had to. Otherwise somebody would have gotten hurt."

"Really? Now what is this?" He pointed. "You are a silly girl."

"I was careful."

"But it shows you weren't enough."

Zoha picked the plate in the sink and turned on the faucet. But Shehryaar turned off the faucet.

Zoha looked at him in surprise.

"Why are you still washing dishes?"

Footsteps approached the kitchen. Manal stood in the entrance. Shehryaar straightly looked at her. She had folded her arms, giving a scathing look. Zoha turned too as she saw Shehryaar staring in one direction.

"Great," Manal said. "So this is what happens when nobody is looking at you." Her eyes keen and daunting.

Shehryaar and Zoha were confused to whom she was particularly pointing the arrow at. She was previously mad at both of them.

"At least, bhai. I never expected this from you."

"What are you trying to say?" Shehryaar said.

"I didn't know I had to explain myself." She acted conceited and smart. "You know you are engaged to Faiza. What would she think if she saw you instead of me with Zoha."

"Manal, it's nothing like that you're thinking," Zoha said. She got away from Shehryaar.

"What's gone into you?" Shehryaar retorted. "I could never imagine you would say such thing. Zoha is my cousin and nothing else. Think before you saying something."

Manal scoffed and left. It seemed that for the purpose she came into the kitchen was burned away after she saw them.

"She's gone crazy," he muttered to himself, after she was gone.

Zoha took off the wet bandage and trashed it. Then went to her room, mortified.