S A R A

I arrive at Mr. Habib's residence, gazing upon the magnificent sight before me. His massive mansion is absolutely breathtaking, exuding modern elegance in every detail. After parking my car, I step out, clutching the carefully selected gift I got for him.

I ring the doorbell and take a step back, waiting for someone to answer. And in the next moment, the door swings open, revealing Habib Uncle. “Assalamu Alaikum, Uncle" I greet him with a warm smile.

His face lights up at the sight of me. "Walaikum Assalam. My daughter is finally here” I walk up to him, handing over the gift. "Uncle, this is for you," The joy that spreads across his face is priceless as he gratefully accepts the present. "Oh dear! You really didn’t have to bring anything. But thank you for the gift" he replies, his voice filled with appreciation. 

Inviting me inside, we take a seat and start chatting and sharing a few laughs, completely engrossed in our conversation. Eventually, we settle around the dining table, the aroma of home-cooked food filling the air.

Suddenly, Habib Uncle grabs his phone and dials someone's number. “Who is it?" I ask, causing him to chuckle, "You will see"  "Okay” I whisper, waiting for that person to pick up the call.  

"Hello, guess who I'm with?" uncle proudly announces. Soon I hear my dad from the other end of the line, and his laughter fills the room, making me giggle along. "You both are having so much fun without me," he playfully teases.

"Come to the USA, my dear friend. We'll create unforgettable memories together. I'm here all alone, anyway." Habib uncle replies, his voice resonating with warmth.

As Habib uncle took therapy sessions from me all these months,he gradually became acquainted with my parents, and their bond grew stronger with each passing day.  My dad found comfort in knowing that Mr. Habib is there for me, just like a father figure.

After a couple of minutes Uncle ends the call. My eyes sweep across the table and spot an extra plate, arranged all neat and tidy as if someone is about to join us. It seems like it's meant for Habib Uncle's son.

"Oh, Aryan is here," Habib Uncle exclaims, his words causing my eyes to lift and then quickly scanning the person coming down the stairs.

My eyes widen, and I blink repeatedly, unable to believe what I am seeing. Am I imagining things? Because what I am witnessing can’t be true.

I close my eyes tightly, hoping that when I reopen them, the scene before me will change. But as I open my eyes once again, the same sight greets me, leaving me speechless. It can't be him, can it? There's no way!

The man finally walks completely down the stairs, making his way to definitely somewhere else rather than this dinning table. As I concentrate on his eyes it doesn’t take me any more moment to recognise him. It's him.. It's the same eyes.  The pair of eyes I saw six months ago. It's him. 

But he is Uncle's son? I'm not sure Whether I should be happy for finally be able to see him or should be disappointed knowing it's the same irresponsible man I thought towards his father.  

He is wearing  a black leather jacket that effortlessly complements his black jeans, while his hands are wrapped in black gloves. Clutched under his other arm is a helmet. However, what catches my attention the most is his hair, which is different from the last time I saw him. While it was meticulously styled back then, now it cascades in a perfectly imperfect manner, with a few strands gracefully framing his forehead.

Curiously, he hasn't directed his gaze towards me, not even for a fleeting moment. It's as if he lacks even the slightest interest in acknowledging the presence of the person invited into his home. 

"Son, come and eat. And also, meet Sara."  Uncle's sudden voice drags me out of my own thoughts. “I'm not hungry,"  This is all that he replies, his tone laced with an unspoken defiance. 

So I was right. Something is definitely not okay between them. 

But then his eyes briefly lock onto me, finally acknowledging my presence amidst them. And now, the question that races through my mind is whether he remembers me or not. If he does, there should be some subtle changes in his face.

I keep my gaze fixed on him, carefully studying his expression, until he looks away and leaves his house. Throughout our brief encounter, there remains a consistent look on his face, from the moment our eyes met to the moment they parted ways. What surprises me the most is my inability to figure out his true thoughts or emotions, not even a hint.

They say that eyes are the windows to the soul, a glimpse into someone's innermost feelings. But with him, it's a whole different story. He has this uncanny ability to hide even the tiniest bit of emotion behind his eyes. It's like he has complete control over his own feelings, including how he uses his eyes to convey them.

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I walk into my apartment and make my way to my bedroom only to drop my body on the comfy bed. My arms sprawl out on either side of me, while my lower half rests on the chilly tiles. 

Gazing up at the ceiling, my mind wanders back to the earlier moment at Habib uncle's house. To be honest, I felt bad for him, he tried to talk to his son, he gave his efforts but his son…. Aryan Kabir.. 

What happened between them to create such a big gap? Is it something even deeper and more complicated? Several questions swirl in my mind seeking answers. 

It really bothers me, and I can't help but wonder if this messed up situation happens on a daily basis. If such mistreatment becomes a recurring occurrence, it will undoubtedly affect Habib uncle's mental health again.

I'm not sure if the same thing happens every day. However, I'm sure that I need to speak to Aryan regarding it and try my best to make him understand that what he's doing isn't right.

Hope you enjoyed this chapter. Don't forget to comment your thoughts🫶