Syra Amir loves travelling the world. So it helps that she works as a photojournalist for a popular travel magazine.
So when she accidentally selects the wrong destination when booking a flight, she decides to go with the flow and travel to this pla...
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Musa
Faris hugged me tightly. He and Shaila had just arrived in Khwabpur, ready to spend a couple of days here. After this, we'd be leaving together for Islamabad, back to our parents' house.
"How are you, Faris?" I asked, patting my little brother on the back.
He didn't speak for a few seconds, and when he did reply, his voice was low, "Alhumdulillah."
Something about him seemed off, so I pulled back and asked him, "All okay?"
He smiled weakly. "Yes, all good."
Lubna Aunty came outside, smiling welcomingly at my brother and his wife. "I'm so glad you came, beta." She patted Faris' shoulder before hugging Shaila.
"Thank you for allowing us to stay here, Aunty." Faris said, as Shaila handed Lubna Aunty a bag from a bakery.
"Oh, there was no need for this, my dear. And don't thank me. Aisha's family is always welcome here."
Zeeshan came out and greeted the couple as well.
"How are things with you, Faris?" I asked my brother as we walked into the house. It still felt strange to think of him as my actual biological brother. It was sad how all these years Dad and I had been completely unaware of his very existence.
"All is good." His smile felt forced, but I decided not to pry further. We just met and I didn't want to sound like I was being intrusive. I could wait until he himself was ready to confide in me.
Faris looked around in awe at the interior of the haveli. "This is amazing, Ma Sha Allah."
"Thank you, beta." Lubna Aunty said. "I love interior designing so I spent a lot of years on the haveli."
We all showed the couple the room they were going to be staying in, and as Shaila excused herself to freshen herself up, Lubna Aunty and Zee headed downstairs. I, meanwhile, showed Faris to the terrace.
"So..." He cleared his throat. "What's your home like, in London?"
"It's nice. It's home." I had to be modest. I wasn't raised to brag about my lifestyle, especially considering that the person I was talking to had just as much right over it as me. Faris had the equal right to have grown up in such comfort, which he had been cruelly deprived off. Endless opportunities had been snatched for him, since before he was even born. I felt ashamed to tell him how I was raised, after hearing about how he grew up.
