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•Lilah•

Every Sunday the family headed out to Ahad and Gulaab's home. Breakfast was spent basking in their love and attention. Drinking the warm cup of tea steeped with cardamom and dried herbs. The deep shade of pink that the tea had was that of love, the salt on their tounge was the star of the show. Served with the crisp fried bed Ahad got from the marketplace were her favourite thing to snack on whilst basking under the winter sun. Not to mention the oranges peeled by her grandmother and served in a large glass plate with a side of himalayan black salt meant that winters were infact, here.

Dressed in a comfortable sweat suit and puffer jacket, Lilah brushed her hair an exact twenty times on each side. Singing the bunny ears song under her breath, she tied her shoe laces. Grinning down on the clean white sneakers she hummed in satisfaction. Holding the chunky gold hoops in hand, she left out in search of her mother to help her wear them. The thin band always missed the lock as her fingers slipped around. It was a job only her mother could get right.

Walking down the hallways like a woman on a mission, Lilah observed the sides. Sculptures she had made, littered the vastness. From the replicas of Greek vases to abstract pillars that were filled with fresh roses on the daily. She smiled remembering the day she had decided to go with sculpting. At that time her age was eighteen and she had barged into her father's office with a giddy smile. Breaking to him the news about having gotten into an Arts school. Clay moulded under her hands and became one with her. She could pour her essence into it without difficulty. Focusing on it was great for her senses, the earthy smell cool touch and muddy colour before she baked and painted it—astounding. Her father had grinned and helped her inform everyone else. A sweet memory, one that had gone straight into the bubblegum pink journal her yaar had gotten for her.

Knocking on the door of her parents bedroom, she tapped a beat into the wood. A beat repeated three times as she waited for her mother to exit. Lilah pulled her fist back, eyes focused on the detailed trims on the door, her hands working with muscle memory. She frowned on feeling the door turn slightly softer. And then a warmth gripped her hands which was odd considering door did not grab you. Even in her dream Lilah could identify the warmth and spicy cologne. Her father, her first love and protector. The man who held her through nightmares and panic attacks. Her loudest cheerleader as she completed the most basic of tasks. She squealed resting her head on his chest. Arms wrapping around his lean waist.

"Where you heading to little butterfly?" Alamgeer kissed her head.

"I need mama," she grinned.

Lilah giggled as he looked at her cross-eyed, following him into their vast room, she searched for her mother. Frowning when she failed to find her. Turning to face her father again, she looked at him with a questioning gaze. The smirk on his face as he rested with arms crossed against the wall, explained that something was cooking inside her father's mind.

"Mama?"

"She's with Raja and Rani," he chuckled.

Raja her father's leopard had been given his wife Rani a few years ago. The two had given birth to young cubs a year ago and were now being prepared for a move to their home in Islamabad. Her mother had been the one hit hardest with the news. She wished to have the little family roam her backyard and had been upset. However, their father had somehow managed to convince her that it was for the best. All Lilah knew was that a flushed Lyana had walked to the dinner table and agreed in silence. While Alamgeer had a heated look in his eye.

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