The air inside Berklee's performance center was charged that particular day. The audience sat filled with anticipation. The ensemble music show was ongoing. The theme for this year was fusion. The combinations coming so far were not only hard-hitting but innovative also. It was the second last performance from the ensemble, a mixture of western and eastern sounds, adding flavor and diversity to something crafted with precision and beauty. The members were on stage, taking their positions. The audience was attuned to every movement, waiting for the magic to flow, casting a spell just like last year.
It began. Piercing the static, the first echo of the flute wrapped everything in its grasp. There was a pregnant silence when it finished which was only broken by the haunting cadence of the violin. It flew in circles, round and round, invisible but reaching where it was supposed to. Then it was a crescendo. Sarod, suona, dizi, guitar, oud, trumpet, keyboard, bass, saxophone, tabla, cello, harp, mridangam, drums
And piano.
The melody became silent for a beat, its fading reverberations still infusing the air when the first piano note sounded. And it stayed. The spotlight focused on him, creating a halo.
His fingers moved, up and down, never leaving the pristine shiny surface, playing with the instrument as if it was his own extension, something he didn't consider external. Every instrument was silent for this solo. Every person sat mesmerized. A hypnotizing enchantment. And suddenly everything was in motion, for him it was. The music notes weren't imaginary; they were around him, the melody not just around but inside him as well.
And then, one by one, all other sounds joined him, creating an amalgamation so distinct in its reality but concurrent in its effect.
A crescendo.
His fingers stopped and so did everyone else's movements. The hall bathed in silence, the echoes receding as if their work was done.
There was applause. Uproarious. Deafening.
He looked up from his instrument and stood, joined by his teammates. They all accepted the accolades with smiles and gratitude. But him more so than anyone.
It was his composition; the speakers announced and it wasn't like anyone needed this reminder. Complex yet beautiful; that was his trademark. The audience again broke into applause louder than before. His eyes darted around them, lingering on his proud family and then at the person sitting right next to them.
His eyes showed pleasant elation as he gestured at the person whose claps were the loudest. The guy returned his grin but didn't stop his movements making him shake his head, as he turned and focused on his team.
For everyone, it was a wholesome exchange between young guys. But if someone looked into the applauding man's eyes at that instant, the naked envy wouldn't be that hard to miss.
𝄞
Finding Aahil Jahangir visibly agitated and distressed wasn't something Sila had remotely envisioned for this day. But it happened.
It wasn't a pretty sight. Not by any means.
She was shocked when he looked up at her with his red-rimmed eyes. A silent plea. It didn't even register with him. He needed to be held and told it was okay.
So, that's what she did. Holding him close, trying to make it better for him. Caressing his nape, whispering words to him, words that held nothing but assurance.
Questions plagued Sila's mind. Seeing him like this was unexpected. What could've happened? He was fine half an hour back. What reduced him to this?
But all of that could wait. Right now, making sure that he was okay was her priority.
"You should sit down."
Sila whispered softly. That seemed to pull him out of his thoughts. He stepped back, away from her hold, and nodded solemnly. His face became impassive in no seconds, hiding the anguish she had seen there just a few moments back.
Sila saw him sitting down on the couch. His face didn't show anything but his body language was defensive. He placed his hands on his knees as he took a deep breath. Sila opened her mouth to say something but then thought against it. If his withdrawing and ensuring distance between them hadn't been an indication enough, then she would be a fool and she wasn't one. He didn't want to talk about it. His expressions conveyed as such. Sila pursed her lips.
"We should get back to work." Aahil said in a steady voice. He had composed himself by then, masking every sign of his discomfort. Sila nodded. "Yeah, we should."
Aahil stood up, and gave her a smile. And Sila hoped she was just imagining it because it didn't reach his eyes. "After you."
Stifling the urge to ask him if he was really doing fine, she went out of the room wordlessly. Aahil followed her the same way, without saying anything.
𝄞
As soon as they came out of the room, they were swarmed by the unending work. Sila didn't mind it though. The event so far was a major success and to keep it this way till the very end, their commitment and unwavering attention to everything were necessary.
Aahil was with her the whole time. They found Nawar and Sahira along with the rest of the team members. The tasks were revised and the duties were again discussed. They all dispersed once again.
Sila was totally immersed in this chaos, trying to make sense of everything going on and so far, it looked under control. The ideal situation during any event she managed along with her team.
But for a fleeting moment, she found her gaze wandering to where Aahil was. He went to meet his family, she had noticed. He also joked around, if his niece and nephews' giggles and his grandmother and mother's amused expressions were any indications. She even found Adan and Faran coming to him and trying to talk, to which he just shook his head as if reassuring them of something.
"Sila, are you even listening to me?" Shifa's voice broke her reverie of thoughts. Sila focused on her. "Yes! I was just about to answer you."
She told Shifa but deep inside, she rebuked herself for being distracted. This was none of her business. She found Aahil Jahangir in a vulnerable condition. Don't we all get like that time and again? It's totally human. She had an event to focus on. It was in the last stages and she couldn't mess it up.
But even as she got back to work, the image of a distraught Aahil Jahangir didn't leave her mind. It stayed there on the back of her mind and her heart clenched every time it made its presence known.
𝄞
Giving a tight-lipped response to Jodi's greeting, he made his way to his room. The woman didn't need to be told explicitly. After years of being his house help, she knew his mood was sour. He'd need solitude for the next few hours to deal with whatever bothered him.
Once in the confines of his space, he discarded his car keys and wallet on the table. Folding his hands on his nape, he stood with his eyes closed trying to calm himself. It seemed to work.
But his relief was short-lived. Footsteps echoed outside in the hallway. He sighed, ready to tell Jodi he didn't need anything. She had stopped at the threshold. Osama had sensed it without even looking in her direction.
And that's when he knew it wasn't Jodi. Not really. There was only one person in this whole damn world he could recognize without even looking.
He craned his neck in the direction of the door and as expected, Alina stood there with a somber look on her face.
Osama shook his head as he smiled sardonically. This wasn't his day. It seemed to enrage Alina for some reason. She narrowed her eyes and reached his side, standing at a reasonable distance.
She stood there for some time. Osama faced her, his gaze challenging.
"What was that about?"
She asked. Her voice was barely above a whisper. Osama shrugged his shoulder. "Setting some boundaries, I think."
Alina shook her head. "Seriously, Osama? You were rude to Rimsha without any reason. She didn't deserve your wrath just because she wants to be your friend."
"Friend? That's one way to put it." He drawled, hotly.
Alina continued, not giving any heed to him. "And you made her feel bad about being friends with your mother. That was low! You know Auntie Zeb wouldn't like it if she got to know. What is wrong with you?"
Osama had had enough. Turning to her, he took a step further, so that the distance between them diminished to mere inches. Alina stood her ground, not perturbed by the proximity. Old habits die hard. Or they never do. Who knew?
"Is Rimsha your friend?" Osama asked.
"What―" Alina found his question odd but it seemed like, he wasn't looking for an answer anyway. He continued, in the same manner, she did moments back. "She must be, or else you wouldn't be here demanding I explain my behavior. Well, if that's the case, did your friend tell you she likes me?"
Alina was taken aback. Osama chuckled humorlessly. "She didn't, right? I'm telling you then. She's romantically interested in me, Alina, and it has been going on for months, way before this project began. But since I do not feel the same; I have to convey it to her. That's what a sensible person is supposed to do."
Saying his piece, he took a step back. Alina's glassy eyes were trained on him. He ran an agitated hand through his hair.
"My mother knows it. My father also does. They encourage me to explore the possibility. Her parents are also aware of her feelings for me. They all think I'm a gone case. But what do I tell them? That I don't feel anything toward Rimsha not because I have something against her but because I'm not over my last relationship, even though it had been years?"
Resolve. What a fragile thing it is when hearts are involved. It was his resolve he wouldn't ever bare his heart in front of the one who broke it, that he would never tell her the mess she left him in but here he was, telling his deepest struggle to her.
It was her resolve to never break down in front of him, to let him know what she did broke her in so many pieces that even after years, she was still crouching down to collect them and somehow, she never could. The piece of her heart was never found, even though she looked for it in the debris of her shattered self the most. But here she was, with tears rolling down her cheeks and sobs lodged in her throat.
"If I let her in, that'd be a rebound, a fucker's move to get over the heartbreak and I'm not that person. Why should she try to mend that was broken by someone else?"
Someone else. That's what she was to him now. That's what she made herself for him. Every new person entering Osama Siddiqui's life would have a name and Alina Asfandyar would be just that, someone else.
"You just didn't break my heart, Alina. You left me incapable of loving again." He mumbled. His pain mirrored hers but he wouldn't know that. Alina shook her head and opened her quivering lips to say something to him. But what? What could she possibly say?
She took a step back. Osama's eyes were on her. One more. His arm shot out to hold her but then he kept it to his side. That was the last straw. Alina staggered out of his room and almost ran downstairs. She was on the last step when she tripped on her feet.
"Easy there, kid." Jodi's warm hands steadied her. Alina looked away from her. Jodi's motherly gaze was too much. All of this was too much for her.
"I should really leave." She mumbled frantically and took out her phone to book a ride. Her fingers were shaking uncontrollably. Jodi noticed her movements with sad eyes. Tears of frustration ran profusely down her cheeks. Jodi looked behind her and silently left her side. Alina followed her gaze and found him at the foot of the stairs. His face didn't give anything. But his car keys were in his hand and so was his phone.
He looked at her and then at the glowing screen of her mobile. "Don't. I'm dropping you home."
Alina took several steps away from him. "Please, Osama. Don't do this." Her whisper reflected her pain; her tears were already doing that as well.
"You don't have to go out of your way for someone who broke your heart, who left you incapable of loving again. You are a damn good guy but it makes me feel that I'm the scum of the earth. Please, don't."
"Don't say that."
"Then don't be nice to me. I can get home on my own. Let me be."
He didn't fight her this time around. His shoulders slumped and he stayed where he was. Alina gulped and turned around. The last thing Osama saw was her retreating back and her wiping her tears as she went out of the door.
𝄞
"I don't think it's a good idea."
Haleh told her for the umpteenth time but as expected Amal's response was a glare her way.
"It's not like I'm asking you to profess your undying love for him or something. You just have to ask him for his help. Easy."
"Easy for you to say," Haleh grumbled. Amal dismissed her. She had established long back that Haleh was a tube light. If that weren't the case, she wouldn't be so worked up over meeting a man who had the hots for her.
When she told Raed that she had a potential solution regarding his living problem, a certain house in Gulshan was in her mind. Imran, the chef they had received Biryani from, the last time they were at Ghar, lived alone in a house that could accommodate not one but five people at the same time. Amal didn't know if the guy was looking for a roommate. She just knew he was her safest bet for Raed's living arrangements. So, she picked Haleh up from her office and both of them were now at the restaurant Imran worked at, on the main university road.
"It's simple, Haleh. Just find the man and convince him that getting a paying guest is what he needs in his life now. Tell him you will be grateful forever if he agrees."
"YOU will be grateful. I don't even know the man you are pulling this favor for that too through me."
"Don't act all pricey. If Imran agrees, you can meet Raed whenever we visit Ghar, a win-win."
Haleh made a face. "You're smitten, Amal. Never knew you were this weak for good looks."
"It's not just the looks, though it can very well be. He's genuinely in need of my help. And he's a foreigner. What kind of bitch you take me for to not help a man in need?"
"You said men can eat shit."
"They can but that is irrelevant."
Haleh's gaze was dubious. "Whatever you say."
Amal all but pushed her toward the back kitchen. "You are so annoying. Just go and do as I told you."
"Say please."
"Haleh, you bitch―"
"Didn't remotely sound like please to me."
"Please, Haleh, my best friend. Do me a favor."
Haleh smirked. "You are gone, Amal Rafiq. Glad to know exotic looks did the trick."
"I swear to God!"
She was about to say more when Haleh giggled and made her way inside. Amal huffed and sat down at their table. She just hoped Haleh would be able to pull this off.
𝄞
"I didn't call you here to laugh at my expense."
The voice didn't do much to put a stop to Mahad's amusement. He glanced at the tablet in his hand and then at the man sitting across from him. Mahad's smile deepened some more. He leaned forward. "I know you're angry, Aun but you have to admit. This writer got you good."
Aun grumbled under his breath. Mahad went back to the article that was Aun's biggest worry these days. Taking inspiration from the New York Magazine's take on Nepo Babies in Hollywood, a clever feature writer in a leading magazine in Karachi spiced things up a little. The person mentioned all the prominent people in Pakistan's corporate and entertainment industry that were there because of their family name and influence but the twist was, the writer didn't mention a single name. They just narrated incidents related to the person in a comical manner and somehow it made complete sense to whom were they referring. It was clever. Aun and many 'nepo babies' like him who not only got where they were today because of their surnames but exploited it as well, couldn't even sue the magazine for defamation.
"I know what the writer did, threw every scandal back into my face in broad daylight. Don't repeat it to me. I just want to have a talk with the magazine owner and if they let me, with the editor and the writer."
"So, you can either threaten them or bribe them to omit your part from the article?" Mahad asked, amusedly. Aun nodded.
"You're predictable. Just own it and live up to your name."
"Not funny, Lashari. I'd love to see your face if you were also there, a laughing stock for the enjoyment of the masses."
"Good thing I have a clear record and don't use my family's name every chance I get."
Aun looked ready to explode. Mahad placed the tablet between them on the table. "Okay, what exactly do you want me to do?"
"You're good at negotiation. Accompany me to the Magazine's office."
"And why would I do that?"
"Because you and I are business partners."
"For now." Mahad reminded him. Aun gave him a pleading look. "Don't be difficult, Lashari. I'm just going to have a talk with them. I want you there so you can help. Don't disappoint a bro. My father is livid. He is going to cancel my dream project and I can't afford that."
"You are about to start bawling. There's a reason you're featured in this article."
"Mahad―"
"Okay. I'll go with you but I won't be advocating for you there. Everything written here is the truth anyway."
Aun opened his mouth to grace him with a fitting reply but then thought against it. He needed Mahad's help. It was the fucker's luck that he was good at negotiations. There was a reason the guy was solely running the Lashari group of industries in Karachi.
"Works well for me."
Mahad nodded and went back to the article and even though he knew Aun was looking, he couldn't stop his laugh. The writer was his favorite person at that moment. They dragged so many nepotism plants too with such apt comic timing.
𝄞
"I can't believe he agreed," Amal exclaimed as she and Haleh walked to the exit. Haleh was ahead of her, so she looked behind and gave her a triumphant smile. Amal could just groan. "And you were making it sound as if you'd need to move mountains."
"Truth be told, even I was surprised how easily he went with the suggestion. I found him and for a while, he seemed at the loss of words. I mean dude?"
That earned her a shake of the head from Amal. He was star-struck, you dumbass. His crush was standing in front of him. She wanted to tell that to Haleh but what was the point? Once a tube light would always be a tube light.
Haleh continued. "After some small talk, I put the real issue in front of him and requested him to let our guest stay with him for the time being. He gave it a thought and then, he said okay. Just like that. Then he asked me what my favorite thing was in the restaurant and I said their lemon shake. He ordered one for me and said it was on the house. Tada." She showed the still-capped large glass to Amal as if it were a prized possession. Amal couldn't help her chuckle.
"I will personally thank Imran as well. He solved an issue in the blink of an eye. Must be a pretty decent fella."
"That he is." Haleh agreed. Amal was checking something on her phone when Haleh abruptly stopped making Amal bump into her.
"What the hell, Haleh?" Amal yelped, rubbing her forehead. Haleh came out of her trance and held her arm. "We need to hurry."
"But why?" Amal was confused. She followed Haleh's nervous gaze but found no one.
"What got you so nervous?" She asked again. Haleh opened her mouth when someone else beat her to it.
"I don't see the same confidence with which you ruined my favorite shirt."
The lazy drawl had Haleh's back stiffened but then she held her chin high. The person stood at some distance from them, his arms folded on his chest.
"Who in their right mind has a white shirt as their favorite?"
"Someone whose favorite color is white?"
"And you had the audacity to criticize my artwork."
Amal looked between the two with concealed mirth and evident confusion.
"Just so you know, I was going to apologize but you were eager to take things into your own hands."
"Why shouldn't I? Do you have any idea how long did it take me to perfect that artwork?"
"And do you have any idea how difficult it was to get rid of the paint? Two washes and my laundry guy said I should make the shirt a duster."
"Okay! Wait for a damn second!" Amal couldn't be a silent spectator anymore. Her bellowing got both Mahad and Haleh's attention.
"What is going on here? What shirt and what painting? And who you are, Mister?"
Mahad shook his head. "That's not important. Your friend here ruined my shirt."
"He called my painting splash of paint, and said the inspiration behind it was a crime scene."
"Seems to me these issues need more attention than our drowning economy." Amal rolled her eyes. Mahad and Haleh both glared at her.
"Is he by any chance talking about the painting you worked on for that art class and exhibition? What was that? kaleidoscope?"
Haleh nodded begrudgingly. Amal made a face. "I called it the same, more or less. But you didn't do any harm to me."
"Well, you're my best friend, and he... he's." Haleh struggled to put it aptly. Mahad sighed. "Mahad."
"Yeah. He's Mahad. Practically a stranger. He had no right to use those words for my work."
Amal was convinced. She rounded on Mahad. "I didn't like that painting as well but you crossed a line, gentleman."
"I'm aware. As I said earlier, I was going to apologize. But she didn't even wait and plonk! My shirt: ruined!"
Amal's face contorted into a thoughtful expression. "The way I see it, you're both at fault. Just apologize and move along. I have places to be at."
"You are done for the day," Haleh interjected. Amal glared at her. "Doesn't mean I can't have important things to do at home."
"Reading smut on kindle doesn't come under that category."
Amal held Haleh by her arm. "Enough freedom for today. You're coming out of the house the day you understand how to control your no-filter tongue."
"Ain't happening!"
Mahad was not interested in this ensuing argument. "Can we focus on the actual problem?"
"No, we don't want to focus on you," Haleh told him.
Amal was done with this whole fiasco. "Just apologize to each other already. I swear to God!"
Mahad sighed but nodded at Haleh nevertheless. "I'm sorry. My comments that day were uncalled for."
Haleh accepted it, albeit with a grimace. "I'm sorry too. I shouldn't have ruined your shirt."
"See! Not hard at all. You both are even. Now can we move along?" Amal perked up but Mahad was quick to prove her wrong.
"Even? How? She ruined my shirt. I need retribution for that."
"How exactly?" Amal was confused but Haleh narrowed her eyes at him. Mahad kept on looking at her. At last, she sighed and handed her shake to him. "Here. I can only give you this right now."
Mahad, not the one to say no to free food, was all game. "Works well for me. See you around."
"I hope I don't!" Haleh added bitterly and gestured for Amal to follow her as she walked ahead.
"If I had a slight idea this would happen, I would've added red chili powder to the shake."
She told an amused Amal but the person laughing at that was behind them. Mahad shook his head as he took the first sip of the shake.
𝄞
The car stopped in a peaceful lane in Clifton. The security guards came out of it first and opened the back door. They stood to the side as their boss left the car. They weren't allowed to go any further.
He took quick steps as he crossed the lane and stood outside the familiar gate. The plate of Limerence: House of Music est. 1954 stared back at him. He ignored the watchman and entered inside through the small portion of the gate.
The manicured lawn was depicting the familiar activity. Kids were playing around. Some teenagers were doing singing exercises while others were demonstrating their prowess in instruments.
He walked the cobblestone path that lead to the edifice of a building that stood through decades. Inside the premises, he could hear the faint background of music and singing; the two things which were part and parcel of life here. His feet didn't stop. Not till he reached the all too familiar wooden door.
He knocked at it twice, the back of his fingers sharp against the even surface.
"Come in."
The faint command was his cue. He creaked open the door and stood at the threshold.
The room was a world of its own. There were bookshelves, and hefty tomes of music stacked there in thick spines. In another corner, under the lone window instruments were placed side by side, the rays of fading sun lights casting their golden glow on them.
In the middle, there was a mahogany table and on the opposite side of which stood the man he was here to see.
"Baba."
Wasif Hassan didn't turn around on his son's call. He was busy watching something on his laptop. Zarrar didn't have to ask what it was. He silently pulled a chair and sat in it.
Wasif Hassan's eyes moved from him to the laptop screen and then he sighed. His long gray-white hair was pushed back into a ponytail. His amethyst stone ring shone in the mellow light inside the room.
"Wrong move, Zarrar." He finally whispered. But his son didn't look surprised by his disapproval. He barely gave any reaction to it.
"You know I don't do well when I'm disrespected."
"I don't see how not adding you to an artist list is disrespectful."
Zarrar didn't comment on it. He looked into nothingness. His features were in an expression of annoyance. Wasif sighed and took deliberate steady steps toward his son.
"You know there's a reason we never comment on Jahan's treatment of you."
"I don't care."
"But I do. I do care for your career. You should know if they choose to play dirty, they can ruin you."
Zarrar looked uncertain. "They will not. He will never want to open that chapter of his life again."
"You never know. He has always been unpredictable so I'd say don't take chances. This," He pointed toward his laptop where Zarrar could see himself at ACHC just a few hours back. "Shouldn't happen again. I value your career more than you value your honor. You are the third music star Hassan family has given to this country. Steer clear of Jahangir Clan, Zarrar. I won't be as gentle and understanding the next time."
He patted his son's shoulder with extra force. Zarrar was no fool to not understand the underlying meaning. He nodded meekly in his father's direction. He might be audacious but provoking his father's rage was always a no in his dictionary.
"How's he, by the way?"
Zarrar was close to the door when Wasif asked. A devilish smirk appeared on Zarrar's face.
"Your old student is the same as he was five years back. He saw me and wasted no time running away from there like a scaredy-cat."
Wasif laughed out loud at that. "Good. He being scared is necessary."
"Always a coward."
Zarrar commented as he left. Wasif saw his son as he disappeared through the door but didn't correct him even though he knew how wrong Zarrar was.
Aahil Jahangir was no coward. Wasif Hassan had years as his music teacher to learn that about him.
Zarrar was misunderstanding his fear of him being a coward and that was Zarrar's biggest mistake. He just had to make sure it wouldn't come to bite him.
𝄞
The music show organized and sponsored by Jahan was the highlight of an already successful event. The theme was nostalgia and the lineup made sure their set list would live up to that. Hits from the 1980s and early 2000 were making everyone reminiscent of an era long gone but still alive in their memories.
Aahil stood in the shadows, in the most secluded corner of the open space. It was a deliberate attempt on his part. He had had enough nostalgia for today. The difference was striking. Where the memories of the past brought tender emotions to the people, his always seemed to push him into an abyss.
Cyrus Diaz was on stage, mesmerizing the audience with his old songs which were said to be the pinnacle of Pakistani Pop. Before that, he sought Aahil out and met him as warmly as Aahil always associated with him. Sonia couldn't make it for some personal reasons.
"He's good isn't he?"
Sila asked, leaning against the wall next to him. Aahil gave her a sideways glance. Her face was distorted in the neon lights but Aahil could still make out the fascination there for the man performing on the stage.
"He's alright."
She scowled at him, making him shake his head.
"Let me guess, a Cyrus Diaz fan?"
Sila nodded, not one bit ashamed. Cyrus was freaking amazing.
"I see. That makes your music taste slightly better in my opinion."
"How do you know him?" Sila asked, ignoring his jab.
"Why do you think I know him?"
"You two were talking during the SoundTest event and today also and by the looks of it, you two seemed pretty chummy."
Aahil narrowed his eyes at her, playfully. "Now if I say you keep an eye on me, you will call me delusional."
"I do not keep an eye on you."
"Jhooti. But to answer your question, Cyrus and I are friends. We move in the same circle so that's how we know each other."
Sila's body language suddenly switched to excitement. Aahil could see where this was going and for some reason, he found it endearing. This was the first time he was seeing her perked up. The childlike excitement about her was new and welcoming to see.
"Close enough to get me his autograph? And no, before you give me this infuriating smug smile of yours, it's not for me. Reen, I mean Rameen, my friend is a huge fan. I need that for her."
"Suuure, Sila. Only one then? For Reen I mean Rameen."
Sila pursed her lips. Her scrunched brows showed her frustration with him. Aahil laughed lightly. "I see what I can do. Cyrus has to rush as soon as the show ends. Bablu was sick the past week. He's fine now but extra clingy and since Sonia is his favorite human, she had to skip today."
"Who's Bablu?"
"Their pet dog."
"You know even their dogs? So much just for moving in the same circle. You are so getting me that autograph."
"I will be getting in for Rameen, though. As you told me."
Sila was in a dilemma. She looked at the stage and then at the man in front of her. His face showed he knew what was up but was just messing with her. She pushed his arm away as she went to the other side to oversee the operations. The smile didn't leave Aahil's face. He knew what he had to do.
𝄞
It was half an hour later. Cyrus's performance had come to an end just some five minutes back. Sila was behind the stage, checking the remaining artist list when she got his text.
The Rich Problem: Come to the fourth floor. Quick.
The fourth floor was for the performing artists. They had been given rooms there. Sila had a vague idea of what this was about but she kept her excitement in check.
Reaching the said floor, she dialed Aahil's number. As soon as she did, he appeared in the far end of the corridor. Sila raised her hands in a questioning gesture. Aahil just smiled and opened the door he was leaning against.
Did he really?
The disbelief subsided the moment she reached his side and he opened the door. The beaming face of Cyrus Diaz came into her focus.
"Hello there!"
The man greeted her. Sila looked between him and Aahil with nothing but awe. Aahil nudged her. That seemed to bring her out of her dazed state.
"Hi." She croaked. Her awkwardness was embarrassing for her but Cyrus didn't seem to mind, must be usual for him.
"Aahil told me you are a huge fan."
"Don't put words into my mouth. I didn't say that."
"Yeah, you said wait up, asshole. I want you to meet someone. Don't you dare move."
Aahil didn't look unfazed. "You were ready to bolt because Sonia called."
"You know Sonia, don't you? My wife can be lethal when she wants to be."
"And I totally support her," Aahil informed him. Cyrus ignored his allegiance and smiled at Sila. "Sila right? Aahil also told me you are behind this amazing event. Nice work. Mustn't be easy."
"Thank you. And no, it wasn't but all that hard work ensured it turned out good."
"Oh, that it did. I'm impressed."
"You should be. She's pulled all-nighters." Aahil put in, making Sila shake her head exasperatedly. "No. I didn't do that. Though, during the day time we all put our 100 into it and oh, Aahil also helped."
"Did he now?" Cyrus looked visibly taken aback. Aahil gave him a nasty look in his disbelief.
"Yes! He has been amazing so far. Who can say it's his first event."
Aahil didn't contradict her. Her praise felt oddly comforting to him. Cyrus talked to Sila some more. Her initial awkwardness was nowhere to be found now. She and Cyrus talked like old pals in those fifteen minutes. She took Cyrus's autograph and both took a selfie together as well. Soon it was time for Cyrus to go.
"Hope to see you again, Sila. And your friend Rameen as well. It was really nice meeting you."
Cyrus told her. Sila smiled at him. "Thank you, Cyrus, for the photos and the autograph but for mostly keeping the essence of a childhood fond memory intact. You are as amazing as a person as in my childhood I used to think you'd be."
That seemed to be the highlight of Cyrus's evening if his full-fledged smile was any indication. Both Sila and Aahil were in the corridor, seeing Cyrus off. It was after he had entered the elevator that Sila turned to Aahil with a broad grin and disbelief on her face. "Oh, my God."
She looked at the autograph in her hand. The reality that she had spent the last fifteen minutes talking to Cyrus Diaz became all the more real.
"I can't thank you enough for this. I wish Reen was here but better luck next time. This is amazing!"
Sila exclaimed. She was holding Aahil by his arm, leaning at him. Her giddiness was infectious. He couldn't help his smile.
And at the same time, from a certain angle, a picture was clicked, without their notice.
𝄞
With the music show coming to an end, the only thing left on ACHC's checklist was the ending party.
Sila and her team kept a keen eye on the last of this whirlwind of an event. They had all the operations running smoothly. The influential crowd and the big names; there was no place for mistakes.
Dressed in her beige fitted pants and black long-sleeved top, minimal makeup according to the occasion and her otherwise straight short bop tousled and wavy, she shifted her weight from one heel-clad foot to the other. She had lost count of how many people she saw or met tonight. People, she'd never be able to run into in normal circumstances. But nothing about the range and scope of ACHC had been normal anyway.
Ajwa was the happiest person. The boost this was going to give AJ events in upcoming weeks was already making her excited. Sila could share her sentiments but she needed at least a full week off from work after this. Ajwa agreed but Sila could see she didn't really mean it. The moment another event came their way, she'd hit her up. The same drill.
Unlike the whole event, Aahil wasn't with them on the managing team. He had come with his family and since then, he was with them. His father was introducing him to every acquaintance of his. Sila couldn't help her snort seeing how done the man looked in his pin-striped two-piece suit.
Slowly, the night was coming to an end and so were Sila's worries. She was almost sure nothing could go wrong at this point.
Maybe she said that too early, it seemed.
She felt the piercing gaze on her back. On instinct, she turned around and found a face she hoped she wouldn't have to see anytime soon.
Arsalan Afindi glared at her from across the room. Sila sighed. Just her luck. But she'd never show the discomfort on her face. So, ignoring the pothead, she focused on her work.
It was when she went to the corridor outside to take an official call; she felt a large hand around her arm.
"Didn't expect me to not say hi, now did you?"
Arsalan slurred. Sila scrunched her nose. The stench of alcohol hit her right in her nostrils. She was sure this was how Arsalan came to the party. His PR team really needed to have a hold on him.
"Mr. Afindi you need to behave."
She said calmly as she freed her arm from him. He laughed. "Or else, you will kick me out of another party?"
She would. But she didn't tell to him. She had heard he had a tendency for violence whenever he was drunk. She didn't want to test that theory.
It was the same shit for him. He was mostly under the effect, a pothead and an alcoholic. And he wore it like a badge of honor. Sila had no problem with whatever he indulged in. The man was a stranger to her. But it was his loud drunk shenanigans and his misbehaving with her female staff that made her kick him out of an event some months back. The hosts didn't take her step well. Arsalan was a senator's son and the fact that he was thrown out of their party was unacceptable to them. They caused a scene in Ajwa's office. She somehow got things under control but sat Sila down to lecture her on the boundaries they couldn't temper with. Sila understood her point but it didn't resonate with her. If someone was being an ass to her or anyone on her team, she would damn well take a stand.
"Don't gloat too much. Don't think now that you've won over Jahan's core team, you're some kind of royalty. I can still crush you with a flick of my fingers."
He had come dangerously close. Sila looked around. Not a soul in sight. Staying here anymore was foolish, suicidal almost. That was it. She pushed him hard to get him away from her personal space. He faltered on his steps and held the wall for support.
"You bitch!"
He yelled. She hurried to slip away from there but Arsalan was quick. He held her by her upper arm harshly. Sila hissed. His grip was iron-clad.
"I will call security!" It wasn't an empty threat. With her free hand, she tried getting hold of her phone. But Arsalan only smirked. "Call your father for all I care. I won't spare you this easily this time around."
She narrowed her eyes at him and proceeded to kick him in the shin when he held her knee and laughed. "Not too quick, sweetheart."
Fear shone in Sila's eyes for the first time. This man was deranged. He followed her here and cornered her. He had already used the physical strength he had on her. She didn't want to imagine what he'd do next. She needed to escape.
"You know what's going to happen now?" Arsalan sniggered. Sila struggled against his grip, trying in the earnest to push him away.
"You will step back and take your fucking hands off her if you want to leave this venue alive. That's what going to happen."
The voice came and the next moment, the force with which Arsalan was pushed off her. Aahil stood between him and Sila, effortlessly obscuring her from Arsalan's lethal gaze. His face was cold fury, jaw clenched and eyes hard. Sila had never seen him like this. He held Arsalan by his collar and pushed him further away. Sila knew what he had to do. She typed something on her phone. In no time, Jahan's security team was there along with the reception staff.
"He's drunk out of his wits. How did he get inside?" Aahil asked. No one dared say a word. "And something tells me this isn't his first time gracing a party with his presence like this."
"It's not."
Sila told him. She was now standing beside him with her eyes shooting daggers at Arsalan. Aahil's gaze traveled to her shaking hands. She hadn't lost her composure but her hands gave her away. That seemed to spur Aahil to action. The security team had gotten hold of Arsalan by then. Aahil turned to the reception staff.
"This man shouldn't be anywhere close to Jahan in the future. We'll have a discussion on how he got inside but that's for tomorrow."
The manager shifted in his seat. Aahil raised an eyebrow.
"Sir, we can't take such a huge step without Mr. Jahangir's permission. You see Mr. Afindi is―"
"Wasted out of his mind and he verbally and physically assaulted Miss Nouraiz here. I don't think any other description of his is needed here."
He took the clipboard from a junior staff member's hand. "And as far as the permission is concerned," He uncapped the pen and wrote something on the paper. Signing it off with his name, he handed it to the manager. "Here, you have it, Mr. Jahangir's permission. Get this man," He pointed at the struggling Arsalan. "Out of here."
He had nothing to say in his defense. Maybe, all his pseudo-machismo for her, Sila thought bitterly. She made a mental note of handing Jahan's team the proof of his previous misconduct but right now, she needed to get away. She just escaped a situation that could go very wrong for her had Aahil not been on time.
And she was just doing her job. The power-hungry men drunk both literally and figuratively who thought they could get away from anything loved ruining everything.
Lost in her disturbing thoughts, she hadn't noticed the staff had skulked away with Arsalan in the custody of the security personnel.
"Hey."
Sila looked at him. He stood close but maintained a decent distance between them. "I've informed Faran Bhai. He'll take care of everything from here on."
Sila gave him a waned smile. "I should get back to work."
Aahil glanced at her still shaking hands and shook his head. "I think you did enough work for days. Can I drop you home?"
He hadn't asked her if she was okay because he could tell every well she wasn't. Instead, he resorted to getting her to her safe sanctuary. Home sounded relieving but she couldn't leave everything here and call it a day.
"I have to be there as we conclude everything."
"Nothing Shifa and other people on your team can't take care of."
"But―"
He shook his head, taking her cold hand in his. "I will inform Nawar Bhabhi and Ajwa. They will see to it. It's not like there's much to do."
He was right. But the perfectionist inside Sila didn't want to agree to it even though she was tired. Somehow, the encounter with Arsalan had been more draining than the whole day's chaos. Safe spaces matter a lot. Hard work doesn't exhaust you, mental anguish does.
So, she followed him out of the hotel premises. He dialed a few numbers on their way to the parking. It was new for Sila. Someone was taking care of her work for her. It had never happened before.
The night air had never felt this refreshing. She stood, relishing it when Aahil opened the passenger side door of his car for her. Sila sat inside without any objection.
"I'm pretty sure I've never left work like this before."
She informed him as he pulled the car onto the main road. Aahil glanced at her sideways.
"You were cornered and assaulted, Sila. Work should be the last thing on your mind. Just so you know I will make sure that the fucker gets his due."
"He won't. His senator father will bail him out of anywhere. Why do you think he roams freely even after causing so many such scenes?"
Aahil looked away, realizing the truth in her words. His anger came back. The image of Sila struggling to get out of that pathetic fuck's grip was etched on his mind.
His senator father will not be able to do much when it's my tycoon father's say against his; he wanted to tell her but kept it to himself. He just wouldn't let Arsalan get out of it, no matter what. Sila was associated with Jahan, the main operations manager for their big event and the man tried to harm her and created a scene while he was on their property. That was unacceptable to Aahil and he knew it would be received the same way by his father as well.
"Thank you, though. You made an entry right on time."
Aahil opened his mouth. He also had to thank her. She also made an entry on time, when he was about to lose it when he was trying to stay afloat in a whirlpool of his demons.
But he chose to stay silent. Words wouldn't be his companion even if he tried. And if she asked what that was about? What would he tell her? Nothing. He wouldn't be able to say a word. He wouldn't even want to as well.
Aahil just gave her a distracted nod. Sila stayed in her seat silent. Aahil also didn't do anything to break it.
"What do you think about Chai"
Sila raised her eyebrow at him. "At this hour?"
"There's no right time for tea, Sila. In fact, it makes every time right."
She gave it a thought. Yeah, she could do with some heavenly warmth after everything this night dished out to her. She nodded at him slightly. And it seemed like this was what Aahil needed. He swiveled the steering, keeping his concentration on the road, and after some twenty minutes, he stopped the car in the parking lot of a buzzing café at sea view road.
"I've been here before. Their Matka Chai isn't that good." She told him but Aahil shook his head. "That's not where we are headed. Come."
She scrunched her brows. Being born and raised in Karachi, she had explored downtown city life as it was close to where she lived. She knew almost every place in and around Saddar but that didn't mean old-money residential areas like Clifton and Defense were a no-go area for her. If Aahil had something on his mind he wanted to take her to, she was curious to know where that'd be.
They walked side by side and rounded the café. Right on its backside, nestled between a warehouse and an ATM, Sila saw the small red-brick one-storey coffeehouse. The name of 'Delli's' shone in bright yellow neon. Aahil gestured at it with a childlike grin on his face. "The best place around here. You can have my word."
And suddenly, Sila was interested to know why he was so excited to be here.
Being an absolute gentleman, he opened the door for her, and instantly, Sila knew what the reason for his bias was. The restaurants lining the sea view road had two things in common, commotion and crowd. It depicted the running life of Karachi but in Delli's, time seemed to flow in slow motion. There weren't many people around. Sila could see people from almost every age group there, an elderly couple, a group of teenagers, a guy immersed in his book, a girl gang giggling over something, and some young couples enjoying their cake and tea all the while conversing.
"It's my favorite place in the whole of Karachi."
Aahil told her as they took the corner-most table. The window to the side painted the scenery outside. The shore was at quite some distance from here but the calm inside the place mimicked the ocean.
"What should I try? Since you seem to know this place well." Sila asked, picking up the small menu sheet.
"Easy. Their classic tea and chicken tikka sandwich." He solved the confusion and Sila agreed with it as they ordered. She had just settled into her seat when her phone pinged with an incoming text. Aahil made a face.
"They need to let you take a breather."
She chuckled as she typed a reply. "Your concern is almost cute but it's not work-related." She had a genuine smile on her face. "It's my brother, actually."
Aahil had known she lived with four other girls in Wadia House. His surprise at learning that she had a brother showed on his face. Sila laughed softly. "He's my cousin."
"Extended family?"
"Yes. They don't live in Karachi, though. That's why we don't see each other much and Muaz Bhai is in the military so meeting him is scarcer."
"You seem to get along well, you and your cousin."
Sila nodded. "We do. He's cool. I can totally vouch that he's got this from his mother, my Aunt. She's the most amazing woman I know."
"At least somewhere we agree. I also think my brother is the coolest. Adan? Well, that's up for debate."
"Oh, shut it. Adan is also nice."
"That she is. It doesn't mean she's a cool sister."
"Though I don't have siblings of my own, my experience with Muaz Bhai and seeing Rameen and Amal's bonding with theirs, I can say it's not always rainbow and roses when it comes to the people you grew up with. Maybe your and Adan's bonding is also something like that? You both love each other but are always ready to start a fight."
"She's always ready to start a fight, Sila." He corrected, hotly.
"I can see who the peace lover between you two is."
"Yes, it's me. Thank you very much."
Their order had come by then. Sila took a bite of the sandwich and a sip of the tea. He was right.
"This is heavenly!" She told him, earning a smug smile from him. "Told you so."
"Why am I not surprised that you are one such weirdo who loves throwing this line around?"
"Because I'm always right?"
"My memory really doesn't support this, though. Mrs. Junaid? Constable Shuja? Seems to me you are always rightfully entangled in a wrong mess."
Aahil could just shake his head at that, not having much to stay in his defense.
Their bickering could go on for a long but the sudden movement in the front of the café got their attention. The same guy Sila saw earlier immersed in his book was now settling his guitar as he sat on the chair. Everyone else cheered for him, making his cheeks colored. Sila looked on interestedly.
"He's never getting used to this," Aahil muttered under his breath. Finding Sila's gaze on him, he pointed at the guy.
"Shaarif."
"Do you know him?"
Aahil nodded elusively. By then, Shaarif had started with his starting notes. He cleared his throat. "Since it's Mr. and Mrs. Masood's wedding anniversary today," He pointed toward the elderly couple. The woman turned a bright shade of pink while her husband accepted the wishes with a polite smile on his face. Shaarif continued. "I will be singing their favorites from Ahmed Rushdi and Muhammad Rafi, Akele na jana, and Abhi na jao chorr ke. My guitar notes will go slightly off because―"
"They won't, Shaarif." Aahil said out loud from his place. Every eye turned to him and then they all gave Shaarif affirmative nods, agreeing with Aahil. Shaarif looked at the loss of words for a while but then, he shook his head with a smile on his face.
"I hope so. I learned from the best you know. The standards are high. But here goes nothing."
There was something in the way he said it. Aahil looked stumped for a second, or maybe Sila was imagining things. Shaarif's voice filled the anticipated silence the next moment.
Akele na jana
Hamein chorr kar tum
Tumharay bina hum
Bhala kya jeeye gye
(Don't go alone, leaving me here
Without you, what's there to my life?)
The kid could sing. Sila rested her chin on her palms as she listened to Shaarif. He played with his guitar, alternating the lyrics. Those who knew the two songs loved the rendition.
Abhi abhi to ayi ho
Bahaar ban kay chaai ho
Hawa zara mehak to le
Nazar zara behak to le
Ye shaam dhal to le zara
Ye dil sambhal to le zara
Main thori der jee to lu
Nashe kay ghoont pi to lu
Abhi to kuch kaha nahi
Abhi to kuch suna nahi
(You've just got here
Like the blooming spring
Let the fragrance permeate the air
Let the gaze wander
Let this evening reach its ripe
Let this heart sober up a bit
Let me live for a while
Let me intoxicate for a bit
Not words are said yet
No words are heard yet)
The sweet voice and the words of love remained with them even when they paid the bill and came out of Delli's, even when they sat inside Aahil's car, and even when he stopped right outside Wadia House.
"That's it, I guess."
Sila whispered. They stood looking at the bungalow before them; it was bright with night lights. Sila could detect Uncle Jeff's player and a soft tune coming out of it.
She turned slightly toward Aahil who had his hands in his pockets, already looking at her. "Not going to lie, I enjoyed working with you. Yes, the initial days were not easy but this has been fun."
Aahil bobbed his head as if no praise could match up to this. "Can say the same and Sila."
He thought and nodded as if he had finally mustered the courage. "Thank you for... Yeah."
Sila's eyes were tender on him. The blank spaces left by him, she didn't need them filled. She patted his arm as if telling him it was fine. He was fine.
"Don't be a stranger, Aahil."
"I'm pretty sure it won't come to that. One encounter on a road and we will go right into the character."
That was enough to make Sila laugh. "Ah, the joy. Goodbye, Aahil. See you around.
"I'm counting on it. Goodbye, Sila."
She held her clutch and phone in her hand and with the other, she unstrapped her heels, all the while walking to the front of Wadia House.
Aahil saw her through the windshield as he started the car. Both had smiles on their faces and both didn't turn back around again. This ended well for them. Not something they had closely expected when it began weeks back.
She went inside, and his car also left.
Only Jeffery's player remained in the background, trying to fill the void.
Abhi na jao chorr kar
Kay dil abhi bhara nahi
(Don't leave just yet
I haven't had your company to my heart's content)
𝄞
The next morning dawned with its own set of happenings. The sun shone brightly on Wadia House as well as on the tall residential building on Crescent Bay. The morning hustle had begun but for two people, the dreamland was still their reality.
Rameen poured her tea into the cup as she scrolled through her phone. The Sunday was lazy, just the way she liked. She ran inside her room.
But one look at a trending video and her laziness evaporated into the air.
In Jahangir House, the same was the case with Faseeh, Adan and Faran. They looked at the video and then at each other.
The day had its priorities straight: Chaos.
But the two people it affected the most were fast asleep, enjoying their dreamland as they should because for them, reality wasn't going to be pretty for coming few days.
𝄞