Leilah Usman awaits an acceptance from a university abroad so she can leave the country she never loved when she stumbles upon an ancient diary. Through the eyes of Mahrosh Irfan, she finds herself in a world so completely different from hers.
One w...
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Sarjot Singh returned the keys of the house.
He had taken over knowing only that it belonged to a pair of orphans. His first surprise came when he discovered that these orphans were related to Irfan Akram; a man whose connections were at par with his. The second blow came when he received a call of warning from a government official who was connected to Irfan. Eventually, Sarjot had no choice but to forfeit. He returned the keys, but not without vengeance in his heart.
That day in the Irfan household was a happy one. Irfan and Walid returned home with the good news and a box of mithai to celebrate it with.
For Aleena, the day could not have been any better. Alhamdulillah, she whispered with every breath, thinking back to how strongly Mahrosh and Walid had believed that this would happen. "Allah is Al-Wakil," Walid would say to her, "have faith in Him and don't worry."
And oh, how true he was! Aleena couldn't help the tears that escaped her eyes; tears over how her faith had shaken then and she had strayed - Ya Rabb, how blind I was, then! How weak I was in the face of trials. But I see now, Ya Allah. I see now. You have lifted the cover from my eyes. Do not let me stray again, but if I begin to slip, bring me back to You. Bring me back to You as You did this time.
Aleena felt all the more blessed to have Mahrosh by her side, turning her tears into those of laughter over her shenanigans as she helped Aleena pack.
Walid watched them, his eyes crinkling by the sides, as he decided not to interrupt - even if he had to pack all on his own, without the company of his wife, her and Aleena's laughter through the walls made the sacrifice easier.
Walid did not get Mahrosh to himself till the morning of the following day.
The hues of the rising sun sprinkled across the skies when he returned from the masjid. Mahrosh was not outside like usual, crushing his hopes of getting to talk to her. He begin to return to his room when his peripheral vision captured a figure through the open kitchen door. Walid backtracked his steps, his eyebrow arching at the scene before him.
Mahrosh was sitting at the kitchen table. Her expression was one of deep concentration as she carefully peeled the mangoes set before her, sleeves folded till her elbows.
Walid walked in. "Assalamualaikum."
Mahrosh looked up, her face instantly brightening. "WalaikumAssalam."
"What are you doing?"
"I was thinking of making Mango Lassi for Dadi before breakfast. It's her favorite-" Mahrosh brushed her hair back from her eyes with the back of her hand, "Do you want some too?"
"Sure." Walid pulled back a seat, his gaze fixed on her as she continued to work. Seconds trickled into minutes till the heat of his gaze began to get to her.
