Nine years ago
Munching on a Dairy Milk chocolate bar, she glanced at him sitting on the stairs of the guest house for the past hour. She wanted to approach him, but Ifra stopped her, warning that he wasn't a good boy and that Grandpa would be angry if she spoke to him. However, she found it hard to resist; he looked so lonely, just like her.
From what she had heard and understood, his father was an evil person. Her maternal uncle, who lived in the same neighborhood, was aware of the evilness of his father. She didn't know all the details, but something had happened that forced them to seek safety in Altaf Khan's house. When he saw that they couldn't be protected there, he flew with them to India two weeks ago. Initially, Sher Khan, her maternal grandfather, didn't want them to stay with them, but Altaf somehow convinced him, and since then they had been living in the guest house.
She had noticed that her other two uncles and their families didn't like them one bit and didn't hesitate to express their disdain. However, this home belonged to Altaf as well, and no matter how much they despised them, they couldn't throw them out.
Taking another big bite of chocolate, she narrowed her eyes toward the path leading inside the mansion. Ifra had left the lawn a few minutes ago, claiming she needed to nap since she didn't like sleeping in the afternoon, so she stayed behind. Rising to her feet, she cautiously walked toward him.
As she reached him, he looked up, curious. She pulled a chocolate bar from the pocket of her jumpsuit and extended her hand toward him with a toothy grin. His gaze shifted between the chocolate in her hand and her face. She noticed his expression gradually hardening. The forlorn look he had worn a while ago was now replaced by disdain and fury.
"I don't want it," he muttered, looking away with clenched jaws.
"It's tasty," she urged, thrusting her hand closer to encourage him to take it.
He stood up abruptly, swatting her hand away. "I don't want it."
Her gaze followed the trajectory of the fallen chocolate on the ground. Her eyes welled up with tears, and her chin quivered. She looked at him through bleary eyes. "Ifra was right, you are a bad boy," she hissed before storming away.
He stood there, biting his lip when his mother called him. He turned to his right and saw his mother standing at the threshold of the guest house. "Ammar," she sounded disappointed, and he knew she had witnessed the scene. "Come inside."
He dragged himself and followed his mother. She bolted the door and faced him. "Why did you do it, Ammar?"
He remained silent.
"I'm asking you something," she said sternly.
He looked up, and his eyes, which had been hard just moments ago, filled with tears. "Mama, she reminded me of U-Ujala." A sob escaped his throat.
Khadija pulled him into her embrace, tears streaming down her cheeks. "But she is not Ujala."
This made him cry even more. "Mama, I miss her."
"Ammar, because of her uncle, we have a roof over our heads." She pulled back and wiped his tears. "Promise me you'll behave and not give them any reason to take away the only place we have."
"Mama, I'm sorry. I'll behave," he said, determined not to make his mother worry.
"She was being nice to you. You should apologize for being so rude."
He nodded.
It was true that she had been kind to him; otherwise, all the other kids of Khan Mansion avoided him like a plague. He wished to grow up quickly, provide for his mother, and become someone like Altaf Khan. If not for him, he would have lost his mother as well, like Ujala. While the mother and son spoke, a figure silently grabbed the chocolate from the ground, stuffed in her jumpsuit pocket and ran away.
***
Present
She found herself among her group of friends in the bustling canteen, enveloped in laughter and conversation, when her phone emitted a subtle vibration. Glancing at the screen, she discovered a message from her grandfather. Tapping on the notification, she delved into the contents, and a deep sigh escaped her lips.
"What's the matter, Fida?" Her friend Farheen inquired, her concern evident.
"Mr.-I'm-the-center-of-the-universe is on his way to pick me up," she uttered through clenched teeth, frustration etching her voice. "Arshad uncle has taken a two-day leave and left me in his hands."
"Tch, tch, tch," Momina clicked her tongue, her disappointment evident. "I fail to comprehend why you harbor such animosity towards that gentleman.
"I don't hate him," she retorted, casting a disapproving gaze at Momina.
A sly smile played upon Momina's lips. "Is it his status, then?"
"This is preposterous. You know very well that's not the case."
"Come on, let's change the subject," Farheen intervened, attempting to restore harmony.
Reluctantly, they agreed, exhaling their exasperation. Fifteen minutes later, her phone chimed once more, another message from him. It informed her of his presence outside, waiting. A mischievous smirk tugged at her mouth as she absorbed the words.
Turning to her friends, she cleared her throat. "I must depart now."
Gathering her belongings swiftly, she dashed out of the canteen, veering away from the parking lot towards the auditorium, that smirk still adorning her lips.
***
The phone buzzed incessantly, causing her to cast a casual shrug, her lips occupied with chewing bubblegum. Nestled in a secluded corner behind the auditorium, she found solace in a novel, engrossed in its pages. Nearly an hour had passed since she had left him waiting, as his calls persisted, to which she turned a deaf ear.
Just as she resumed reading, her phone jolted once more, eliciting a groan from her. Glancing at the screen, her eyes landed on the caller ID, prompting her to sit up hastily and answer the call.
"Grandpa."
"Yes, I'll be right there."
"I wasn't aware he had arrived."
"I'm coming immediately."
After hanging up the call, she sighed and packed her belongings, hastening her departure. Approaching the car, she found him leaning against it, his face displaying an impassive gaze, as always.
Reaching him, she greeted him with a fake exuberant demeanor. He acknowledged her presence with a nod, opening the car door for her. Settling inside, she beamed like a mischievous Cheshire cat.
"Um, Ammar, take me to a stationery shop, please."
"Alright," he muttered.
And so, at the stationery shop, she indulged in wasting yet another hour, perusing various items she had encountered countless times before finally selecting a few. Glancing at him, she noted his absence of annoyance or irritation. At times, she pondered whether he was even capable of experiencing genuine human emotions. She concluded that he was not.
When she stepped out of the vehicle, she noticed her grandfather waiting for her in the driveway.
"What took you so long?"
Ammar had also disembarked, but before he could utter a word, she turned toward her grandpa. "He arrived an hour late, and we had to make a detour to the stationary shop."
Her grandpa scrutinized her with a discerning gaze.
"Grandpa, I'm famished." She said, feeling his penetrating gaze, bore into her. Before succumbing to the pressure and reluctantly revealing the truth, she whimpered and tugged at his arm, coaxing him to accompany her inside.
***
"You ought not purposefully squander his time, knowing full well that he has an impending final examination," Grandpa admonished her within the confines of his sanctum.
"I did not engage in any deliberate action," she pouted.
Grandpa nodded before unveiling the pages of his book, engrossed in its contents, while she settled on the couch, absorbed in her own novel. Typically, she spent her afternoons in Grandpa's room, as the other inhabitants of the Khan mansion sought respite in slumber during that time.
As she focused on the line she was perusing, the words on the page blurred before her. With an exasperated huff, she closed the book abruptly. Why do I suddenly feel remorseful? Bereft of an answer, she rose to her feet.
"Grandpa, I believe I am fatigued. I shall rest for a while," she informed Grandpa before swiftly departing from his quarters. Instead of heading toward her own room, she meandered toward the kitchen to appease her untimely hunger.
At the threshold of the kitchen, her footsteps faltered. She spotted his mother, Khadija, diligently stirring something on the stove. Clearing her throat, she entered. "What are you currently preparing?"
"Rabia's family is coming for dinner," Khadija disclosed, referring to her cousin brother Behram's prospective bride and her family.
She nodded as she leisurely strolled toward the fridge. "Where are Shahida and Hamna?" she inquired about their household help while rummaging through the refrigerator.
"Arshad took them with him to the village," Khadija responded, preoccupied with her tasks.
She scrutinized the woman intently, as she always did, yet found nothing but the perpetual grim countenance. "Do you require any assistance?" she inquired, although aware that her culinary skills were woefully inadequate.
"No," Khadija looked at her, taken aback by her unexpected offer. "I am nearly finished. Ammar assisted me with everything. I sent him away because he has his impending exams."
She nodded, and instead of eating, she merely gulped down a glass of water before striding away. She did not desire to harbor empathy toward him. For years, she had detested engaging in this internal struggle. She loathed him for his constant arrogance and his knack for getting on her nerves. She despised his perpetual apathy.
She yearned for the tranquility she once possessed, nine years ago, before he set foot in the Khan mansion.
Welcome to the journey of Fida and Ammar
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