Gunnah e Shab

31. Trip • سیر

The large home was made of white marble. The parts that weren't, of baked brick and had been painted a strong white shade. It was a muted home, with the strong greenery of it's elaborate front yard and the thickly coated dark brown door jutted into the centre. Azmaray and Laila walked towards the door, hand in hand. Their eyes taking in the lustrous sight. A neat row of white roses had been planted along the raised cemented porch. Large wide steps leading to the main door. The servants passed them welcoming smiles and Laila could already feel the difference between the Khan's and Shams'.

Before either of them could open the door, it was opened from the inside. A grinning Sardar Shams with his wife, Alina Shams waiting in attendance. Laila grinned into their direction and hugged them tight. Their parent like warmth calmed her raging heartbeat. She finally had a home she belonged to. A family. People to call her own. People to celebrate with. Laila had after all, always wanted to have a large family and now seeing her dreams open up into the arms of reality, nothing was more satisfying.

"Azmaray my boy, she is in the sunroom. We shall give you two some much needed privacy, come Laila your sister and aunt await," Shams smiled at her.

"Actually, I would prefer having Laila by my side," Azmaray brushed his hair to one side.

Wordlessly, Laila joined his side. Holding his hand in a tight grip as her grandparents led them into the tastefully decorated room. It had large windows that let in plenty of sunlight. An industrial sized chiller that ensured the room was a comfortable cold temperature even when it was the hottest time of the year in Lahore. Adjacent to that was a sofa set. Cream in colour with blue silk cushions, the Hydrangea flower embroidered on them. Like a proud emblem.

The three seated and two seater were separated by an onyx glass coffee table. It had a low rise style and was already covered in all kinds of seasonal fruit and deep fried snacks. Laila's eyes zeroing in on the delectable vegetable samosas. Her mouth watered and stomach grumbled, blush coating her cheeks as Azmaray's loud laughter was joined by a silvery voice. His mother of course. Laila looked to her, the woman a regal sight. Dressed in all white embroidered shirt with a touch of red. Her silk veil, rested on her hair and from the peaking strands Laila understood that they had been dyed a pretty brown with streaks of gold running through them.

"Ma‐ma?" Azmaray spoke, unsure of himself.

"Oh my Zamar! Come here," she opened her arms.

As if he was a young child again, Azmaray leaped into her arms. Sinking to his knees he rested his head against her bosom. Softly crying with her as the two wrapped their arms around each other. The sight was heart breaking and Laila could feel tears fill her own eyes as she sniffed them away. Almas ran a hand through Azmaray's hair. He was exactly like her father had been in the days of his own youth. She ran her arms all over his face and shoulders as if still in disbelief.

"You're actually here Zamar," Almas sniffed.

Taking his face into her hands she peppered it with kisses. Blowing protective verses on him and praying to God, in thanks for keeping her son safe. For bringing him back into her arms.

"Why didn't you take me?" He complained like a young child, his voice full of accusation.

Hugging her, Azmaray had felt an instant connection. A bonding that he had longed for in Saheefa. He had needed her when he was a young teenager and wanted to know the truths of life. However, he would take what he got. His mother, his actual mother was infront of her and he would never let her out of sight. Not anymore.

"I'm sorry Azmaray. Your father had divorced me in a fit of anger and your grandfather was planning to murder my father and I. That way they would use you to claim the land of Mushkpur. We did what came to mind. In a window of forty minutes. I am so sorry," she kissed his hands repeatedly.

"Please don't apologise mama. But why didn't you ever come back?" Azmaray spoke.

"To save you. Azaan Khan is a ruthless man, he would have hurt you and a mother's heart can't bear the idea of her child being hurt. Yet I never left you alone, my father had spies and now their children were my ears. Why do you think Rangeen Khan put his life at risk to bring you to Lahore to the woman you loved?" Almas winked in Laila's direction.

"That man is talented beyond my perception," Azmaray chuckled.

Almas stared at him with a fondness in her eyes. Running her fingers through his hair. A silence settled over them. Each one busy in a myriad of thoughts, of their own. Disbelief, love, humor, anger and joy washed through them like fast flowing rivers. The silence came to an end as Laila's stomach rumbled again. The sounds of laughter chiming in and breaking the spell.

"Come here," Almas waved at Laila.

She took soft steps and sat in the feet of her mother-in-law, much like her husband. However, Almas pulled her up to sit beside him, pinching her cheeks before serving her the piece of pastry she had been eyeing.

"Eat. Looks like my son keeps you starved," she teased.

"This is Laila, my wife. She —"

"No Azmaray. What she was or does isn't my business. It's between her and God. As long as she is the reason behind your happiness I have no complaints. Plus she is lucky for us, as soon as Laila stepped in, my son reunited with me," Almas smiled.

Then as if suddenly remembering something, she sent a text to someone. Her eyes fixated on the door. Only the sounds of Laila's soft chewing could be heard. The door opened and Zaeem stepped in. On his face a smile sat proudly. Azmaray could notice the similarities between him and their mother. Getting off of his legs he walked over to his younger brother. Hugging him to his chest, tightly. Finally he was home.

I know this is short but I didn't want to ruin the sanctity of it. It's perfect to me. Just 100 words less than the average chapter so it works.

Now all the remains is one question being answered. Which will be in the next one.

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