07 | glass

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وَللنّاسِ فِيمَا يَعْشَقُونَ مَذَاهِب
And people, in what they love, have many ways

Monday - 5:39pm

"I said no, and that's final."

Hemayal repeated, for the hundredth time, and Mehmal only groaned in response, before, however, making a face that conveyed her distaste quite perfectly. Eyebrows creased and a frown curving the lips, Hemayal stared at her cousin who had the same expression filling her face as her own.

"God, Hemayal. You're one stubborn woman." Mehmal glared at her cousin who sat comfortably on the lawn chairs, legs crossed as her eyes moved over the screen of the laptop.

"That coming from someone who is notorious for being adamant is a shame, truly." Hemayal didn't falter her gaze from the bright screen as she replied.

"We're not talking about me, Hemayal. We're talking about you, and your moral obligations." Mehmal pulled at the cushion on Hemayal's lap on which the laptop was placed, but the latter only squatted her hand away before glaring at her.

"Don't teach me morals, Mehmal; you're younger than me." Hemayal said in an indifferent tone which Mehmal slapped away with an eye roll.

"Just by three months." Mehmal scoffed, "And besides, being younger than you doesn't mean that I can't tell you right from wrong."

Hemayal and Mehmal sat outside in the grand lawn of the Khakwani Place, the lawn rife with lush greenery. The grass ornamented with wild flowers and massive trees was truly a sight to behold while the decorated sofas in the middle and a lone, large swing at the side gave out an ethereal aura.

"Yes, but it does mean to hold your tongue when the next person doesn't want to listen." Hemayal didn't raise her head to answer, her manicured fingers typing an email calmly on the laptop.

Hemayal was in no mood to discuss the topic; Mehmal, however, wanted nothing but.

"When it comes to this topic, the next person never wants to listen." Mehmal stared at her cousin with sadness lacing her eyes now and Hemayal was forced to look up at her.

"You won't let me write this email, will you?" Hemayal groaned and a small smile touched Mehmal's lips.

"Not until you talk to me about this." Mehmal urged and Hemayal exhaled a deep, tired breath before closing the laptop.

With legs still crossed, Hemayal bent forward to pick her mug of coffee from the table, the wind blowing slightly through the brown tresses that moved like a wave in the depth of the ocean. Removing some rebellious strands from her face, she tucked them behind the ear, while the rest fell on her shoulders in perfect waves.

"Okay, fine. Talk." Hemayal buried her face in the circle of the cup as she sipped slowly.

"You should go to the hospital to ask after her." Mehmal began, all over a again - a discussion they were having for the fifth time now since two days ago when they got the news of the accident.

"Everyone went, Mehmal. Even Musa went with Hadeed Lala to see her. I don't think there's much need of me to go there." Hemayal sipped her coffee with an air of unease, but indifference nevertheless.

"Yes, there is. And you gaddamn well know why." Mehmal's eyebrow shot up in anger and Hemayal shook her head to herself, tucking another strand of hair behind the lock of the ear.

"Look, Mehmal." Hemayal sighed, "If Ibrahim weren't in the city, I would have gone. But he is and I don't think I can find the courage in myself to go there."

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