Often times we take out fault in what we hear from others and react when it is us who have erred in understanding. Haani was infuriated with Sanari for walking out on him without a trance of lenient reasons but little he understood that to her, he didn't even deserve knowing her reasons.

The week flew by with no sign of her. The hopes of her returning when he saw her things still there, had started to brittle away as the wild wind. He stared at his wedding album. Tracing the smile on her face with his fingers, he admired how good all of them looked together, like a happy prosperous family. How he wished it were true, how he wished life had given him that chance to a happy family. But not once, twice God had taken away that chance from him. Maybe that's why he so much opposed the idea of His existence. If God had created him, He was supposed to love him too and not make him suffer each time.

In a gloomy mood, with barely a few hours of sleep in days, Haani took a shower and got himself dressed without bothering to observe his attire anymore. The bright sunlight didn't match his mood either and so he made his way downstairs. On reaching the living room, he turned and slumped into one of the sofas with his heavyweight. He watched Laila gracefully sip her tea. "Morning!" He greeted in a grumpy voice.

Laila carefully placed the teacup on its saucer and placed it on the table before her. She turned herself to take in the view of her very bothered nephew. His hair was wet and was all over the place, he hadn't bothered clamping the few collar buttons of his t-shirt, eye bags had formed under his eyes. Nevertheless, she was grateful that he had showered at least and shaved.

She got up from her seat, fetched out a plate and placed a few pancakes on it. She walked over to him and sat beside him. Offering him a plate of pancakes, he slightly pushed her hand away, "I'm not hungry." But the grumbling of his stomach proved otherwise. Knowing her nephew too well on how stubborn he was, she picked up the fork, twisted a slice and brought it to his mouth, "eat or you're getting grounded, you know I can do it, you're not too old for me to let you always have your ways with everything." Fully annoyed, yet he opened his mouth and chewed on the slice. It tasted nothing compared to how Sanari would cook him. "I miss her." He closed his eyes and swallowed. "We'll talk after you eat." Without a word he obliged and let Laila feed him like a two-year-old.

After he had finished, he waited for the maid to take away the breakfast and let him be in peace for a while. "Why did you make her go?" Laila finally voiced the very question she wanted to ask the moment Haani had called her and told her Sanari had left, the moment her flight had landed and she had seen him. But when she saw him, she at once realised he was heartbroken despite acknowledging or admitting it to himself.

"I didn't make her go." He innocently defended himself.

"I don't even know why she left. I've been searching for her for a week now. The cops are into the matter and there's no trace of her in the entire freaking state." He angrily concluded, he was more than frustrated. It had been three weeks and a few days without her and he was ready to pull out his hair by now.

"That girl was deeply in love with you, and to leave someone you love requires big reasons. You gave her those reasons that's why she left without a word." He stared at Laila with words of defence going dry in his mouth.

"Did you call her while you were away." She asked.

"No-" Haani didn't think it was a big deal then as he was trying hard on trying to get her out of his mind but now he realised the gravity of his own actions. She had confessed feelings to him without demanding his love in return, she had let him have her in any way he wanted, without wording a complain, all she wanted for him was to only acknowledge her feelings in return and he had failed to let her know that he did.

"As far as I remember you called this marriage a proposition. Was your marriage consummated?" He knew too well what she was asking him about. His cheeks warmed from the embarrassment of having his aunt ask him such a private question.

"Yes-" very much yes, he had taken his rights from her every chance he could. She was like a drug to him. He had desired and loved her body like one of his art pieces. Her heart, he couldn't say the same.

"Months have passed since both of you got married, are you sure she wasn't expecting?" Laila wanted to ask that question. On knowing the nature of their marriage, she found it rather convenient to think that Sanari might have gotten scared like any other woman when she entered motherhood and she had come around to grasp the reality of their marriage on proposition might end one day. Haani being a powerful man would do anything to have his child. She might have gotten scared of losing her child and thus, she took off without a word.

"She wasn't when I left her here." He tried to be sure but he wasn't because at the back of his mind he knew it was a possibility and now digesting the fact that his wife along with his child has walked out on him, was rather hard to take in. He had never given fatherhood a thought and never had he imagined Sanari could be expecting. The thought somewhat made his stomach twist in nervous knots.

"Have you ever told her that you love her?" Her question took him aback.

"I don't love her." He rather stated sternly.

Laila got irritated on how stubborn he was to accept his own emotions and so she couldn't stop herself from giving him a reality check, "you married her under a proposition. I don't care what terms you had but if it was a proposition to you and you refused to give her the status and values of your wife, you had no right to even lay a finger on her and claim her. You had no right to touch her. You used diplomacy Haani. You took away all you could as a husband and didn't give her anything in return as your wife. And now you're wondering why she left without a word? Maybe if you reflect upon your own actions, you'll find answers deeply rooted within your own selfishness." Laila let out her words without a second thought.

Somewhere he knew Laila was very right. Marriage to Sanari was a mere proposition to him, he just wanted his inspiration from her so he could get back to painting. He had no right to allure her into loving him or most of all claim her. He had claimed her and nothing sounded more wrong than that. What difference was left between him and Behlul? He was a monster himself, a brute, he had used her, he had satisfied his own lusts. This reality made him fall even below his own moral values.

Men aren't good with accepting and acknowledging their own mistakes, they justify their wrongful doings with excuses that are baseless and when you show them the mirror, instead of reflecting upon themselves, they tend to break the mirror in pure arrogance. That's exactly what Haani did, "I couldn't love her and you know exactly why. I couldn't give her that place of a wife and that's that." He growled and got up from his seat in pure anger. He was fuming but Laila didn't cease from making him look the mirror. She had stayed silent and had watched him plunge in past for too long. She had known him for being too heartbroken to move on with old memories. She had watched him suffer in silence because of the harsh realities of his life but right now he was being nothing but stubborn to accept the crescent of light trying to illuminate his life. He himself was shutting doors on his own chances to happiness and she couldn't watch him do it anymore.

"Why can't you love her?" Laila challenged him.

"Because I love Kara." He stated with fair words.

"No. You can't love her because you can't get over someone who's buried six feet beneath the ground for years and I'm sure by now not even trances of her crunched bones would be left." Haani's eyes widened in shock on hearing upon her words and he sharply turned towards her but she didn't stop.

"Kara is gone. She's not coming back and it's better you start accepting that reality. Stop living in mere memories and open yourself to present. Sanari is your present and she's very much in flesh and bones, breathing, waiting for you to love her back. Just because you lost Kara doesn't mean you don't deserve a chance to happiness and love with someone else. Stop being so hard on yourself. You can fall in love more than once." Haani refused to meet her gaze anymore for he knew she was right.

"I can't betray Kara, I can't let her go, I can't forget her." He stated all defeated.

Laila let out a tired sigh, "No one is asking you to let her go, or forget her. No one is asking you to replace her either. Keep her, remember her but stop living in her memories, it's nothing but a shallow pit that will get you nowhere. Sanari is your present, stop feeling guilty of loving her. You aren't betraying Kara rather you're piercing her soul with what you're doing to yourself. Just look at you? You think if Kara could see you today this way; broken, shattered, miserable, stubborn, indulging in past, she'd have been happy about it?" Haani shook his head to her question. Kara loved him and seeing him hurt would've bothered her even more.

"There's nothing wrong with falling in love again." He raised his head to look at Laila. She saw the unshed pain and grief in his grey eyes.

"Then how do I fix things, how do I get her back?" He asked in a voice leaking with painful emotions.

"Maybe by praying to the God you've stopped believing in." She turned and walk away to her room leaving behind a dishevelled and fazed Haani. He blinked in the thick air.

~~~~

Haani parked his car in an empty parking lot with just a few other cars. He gazed at the dark night sky, only a few stars glimmering in the gloomy sky. It matched his life. Only little streaks of light embellished his life and now even that seemed to have dimmed away. He started walking down the road. He pulled his hoody over his head to not let people recognise him. He wanted time to himself, away from everything, walking between busy streets of different venders and people.

He observed people laugh, talk, walk silently by, complain about prizes and just have their time spend one way or another. Times like these he wished his life was normal. He wished his parents were here. He wished Kara was here. He wished so many things but most of all he wished that the little of what was left of his life won't crumble to ruins. He wanted Sanari to come back. He had lost a lot already, he didn't want to lose her too.

He walked many streets when suddenly a voice from afar interjected his clouded mind. Being alert at once he tried to pay an attentive ear to it. Whatever language was being voiced through the microphone, it was very similar to what Sanari would recite to him each night. He started following the voice. It led him to the city park and on the right corner, he saw people entering a building. The sound of the voice was piercing out of the building with a huge dome. He followed the people. He knew it was a masjid.

He stopped in front of the masjid, observed an array of boxed cupboards with shoes and at once he realised he couldn't walk in without taking off his shoes. He took off his branded leather boots and placed it in one of the wooden boxes. He walked inside. Looking around he observed a different kind of men. Some were busy talking, while some were busy reading, everyone going about their own tasks. A guy pushed into him unconsciously and turned to him apologetically, "ma'azrat ya akhi!" Haani didn't understand what he said but instead, he asked him "what's that voice?" He pointed his finger upwards in a gesture. The man before him chuckled, "you mean the azan? It's a prayer call."

"Right!" Haani curtly replied. The man tilted his head to the side and observed him, "you're not a Muslim are you?" He asked intrigued. Haani for the first time felt embarrassed, "I'm a Muslim but not practising." The man nodded at him in acknowledgement. He saw a light flicker about his eyes, "want to know about your faith young man?" He asked him politely. He seemed very forward and curious. Haani didn't give it much thought and nodded. As if his mind wasn't following his body, he started walking behind him.

As if everything went in a natural accord. Haani Fateen was ready to accept new beliefs, he was ready to believe in a God, he was ready to have faith; if that meant he could save his life from crumbling. The man stopped before an elderly man and spoke something to him in that very langue which Haani learnt was Arabic. The elderly man smiled at him politely and nodded to the man. The younger man patted him encouragingly on the shoulder and walked away.

"Assalam Alaikum Warahmatullahi Wabarakatuh!" The man greeted him in a rich voice to which Haani only noted. He gestured for him to sit on the ground and he did. "I'm the head Imam of this masjid. Every day I meet young gentlemen like you who are interested in knowing more about their faith, about Islam. So, before we start with basics mind I ask you what brings you here?"

Haani tried to calculate an answer, "I-I don't know, I just followed that prayer call." He honestly concluded.

"Muslim by birth?" He asked again. Haani nodded.

"Ya'Allah have mercy and guide such irresponsible parents who fail to guide the future ummah towards deen." He shook his head with a sad look.

"My parents passed away during my childhood. I've been brought up in a foster care run by Christians." Haani tried to explain to him how he ended up this far from deen, the Imam acknowledged with a pitiful nod.

They started discussing basic religion. He told him stories of the prophets and sahabas. He told him facts about Qur'an and Islam. He talked about the miracles of Islam. He taught him the basics of the religion. He explained to him how everything is Maktoob (it's written) and how fitrah works. He explained how everything was destined and every person was to be tested. He also explained why people got tested, how many people found their way back to their creator after being inflicted with a trail, as Haani did. Haani listened to him silently, trying to grasp as much as he could. It felt like a positive force entering his heart, mending the broken pieces of his soul. Everything made sense to him.

By the end of many consistent hours, the Imam finally asked Haani to repeat the shahadah after him. Even though he was a born Muslim, the imam insisted. As if with reflex his mouth moved and he repeated the Shahadah. He remembered the words very well. It was a phrase his mother would often recite to him during his childhood, little he knew what it was till now.

The Imam got up and informed him it was time for the fajr salah. He heard the adhan again. He taught him how to perform ablution and he followed step by step. The Imam taught him how to pray salah and made him stand next to a young boy who was asked to recite his salah loudly for Haani to repeat after him. Haani Fateen offered his first Salah in a place where no one asked him about his status or assets. Where he was treated equally among all the different people. Where he was made to prostrate on the matted ground before a God who had created him.

Finally, when the finished salah, Haani turned to the boy and genuinely thanked him. The boy hastily walked away after offering him a smile.

Haani sat there silently observing everyone. After a few moments, he bent down in prostration and let out all the frustration and hurtful feelings he had obstructed for years. He began to sob in complete silence. He had been lost for years and now that he'd found his purpose, everything overwhelmed him. He at once understood why Sanari came into his life after all the tornadoes of his past. She wasn't his inspiration, she was a means for him to find God, find his purpose. He wanted to thank her for it, he wanted to tell her about it.

Straightening himself, out of nature he raised both his hands and cupped them together for silent prayer, "I'm sorry, I'm sorry for not believing for so long, I'm sorry for not having faith, I'm sorry for every wrong turn I've made, I promise to never turn back again, I-I'm sorry for hurting her. Oh God, Oh Allah I need her. I want her to come back, I don't want to lose her. I love her-" he muttered with tears streaming down his face.

~~~~

Laila observed the instant change in Haani's behaviour. He had gotten a lot silent for a few days. She saw him leave each night and return home after sunrise. She was starting to get worried about his whereabouts for a couple of days. She wanted to confront him about it. He was making her lose her mind frantically.

She walked up to his study and knocked, waited for him to open and he did. It was noon and she could see the scattered files on his study table. He gestured her to sit, "I'll call you later." He talked into the phone and then waited for her to speak.

"Where have you been going for the past couple of nights?" She went straight to the point.

Haani didn't want to play games either, "Masjid." He answered shortly.

For a moment Laila seemed startled, "Masjid?"

"Yes. You asked me to pray to the God I've stopped believing in, so I did. I prayed to Him. I pray each morning, each night to him." And in years she hadn't heard anything as pleasing as that.

~~~~

He kept checking his wristwatch for the time to flicker by quickly and let him get done with yet another interview. He sat elegantly in the posh sofa at the other corner of the art studio that held his paintings on exhibition. The channel had demanded to record a video of every single painting of his and get an exclusive interview with him. His agent had agreed to it since his art would find better spots and that could profit both his fame and business.

He watched the men shooting about the art gallery and busily chattering away. He brought his hand to his stiff neck and rubbed it to loosen the tired muscles. He didn't know anymore how his life had come to where he was today. Everything was starting to fade away in the background. Nothing interested him anymore. His mind was locked on one picture, Sanari-

"Are you ready, Sir?" With a deep sigh, he nodded a yes to the middle-aged guy.

They sat in the front, of the gallery, with cameras on them and a view of paintings in the background. He calmly answered each question. Every now and then the guy would make a joke and Haani would easily laugh to make it look like he enjoyed having an exclusive interview of his.

"People may have asked you this before but today we are expecting to know genuinely, you're a self-made billionaire entrepreneur, you started from dust literally speaking, how do you feel about it?" He asked seriously.

"Sometimes to keep yourself distracted, you invest all your time and attention in things that help distract you, if it's productive, you earn for the hard work you do. I earned too, a status, fame, good business, a name even. Often times I wonder if I wasn't here today, my life might have been a lot different but there's nothing we can do with fate. Everyone is here for a purpose and no one leaves until that purpose is fulfilled. Your purpose here today is to interview me, mine is to answer you and non could run away from that could we?" The interviewer chuckled and Haani gave him a gleeful smile.