The Longest Autumn

Still unable to understand the reason behind getting the whole wallet she came back to the home which was engulfed by a dead silence. The garden was watering the plants as well as grass. Another man was washing Danish's car and the watchman immediately picked up his mobile phone after seeing Fayra. She would ignore this thing if didn't hear her name. 

“What did you just say? And to whom?” She asked once the man dropped the call. 

“Fayra Bibi, Danish sahab ka phone aaya tha, wo keh rhe the aap pohoch jaye to unhe bata du, bas wo hi bta rha tha." The watchman immediately justified his action which clenched Fayra's heart. 

Danish was still the same, caring and protective. It was his old habit to ask Dayra if she reached safely, even when she used to go to the coaching, he was the one to make sure of her safety. 

(Fayra Bibi, Danish sir called. He wants to be informed as soon as you arrive.)

"Oh okay.” Nodding her head she stepped inside the home, a maid was mopping the stairs and the other one was about to start brooming.

“Fayra Bibi, aapka mobile baj raha tha bohot dair se.” The maid mopping the floor informed her as soon as she stepped inside the home. Fayra nodded and rushed upstairs. She was sure it must be her parents because she didn't contact them in the last twenty four hours but she was wrong. 

(Fayra Bibi, your mobile was ringing for quite a long time.

It was Danish's call. She returned immediately and he was sounding worried. "You reached home safely?” 

“Yeah," she nodded as if he was seeing her. 

“What took you so long to reach home Fayra? It's merely a fifteen minute travel but you took almost two hours.” Fayra was silent for a while. “You didn't even have your mobile phone.” He was worried enough to shout at her. 

“I… I was…” she was silent. "I was buying some fresh fruits for Dadi Jaan from the nearby market, I thought…" she stopped again. No one of them said a single word after it. There was a time when Fayra was afraid of travelling alone, especially in cabs and auto rickshaws, but Danish didn't know that this Fayra was different, she wasn't afraid of travelling alone. 

“Well, I didn't call you to ask if you reached or not… it's just because…” he took a pause, trying to find out a reason, trying to prove himself careless but Fayra knew his real intentions, “Umm… bring my charger while coming back, just it. I called just for it.”

“Fine. Got it. I thought you were worried for me." Fayra smiled. She felt happy that he still care. 

"What? Why would I be worried? Umm… Dadi Jaan was asking about you, that's why I called… she was worried, not me.” 

“Yeah yeah, I got it." She smiled and put the call at an end while rolling her eyes.

The overjustification was proof of a lie itself. In childhood whenever they all played detective killer, Danish was easiest to find as a killer because he babbled too much to show himself not a killer, and his overjustification was a proof itself. Similarly, if he was told to keep something secret he would justify in front of his parents that he didn't even know anything about that particular topic. 

"Pagal.” Fayra jerked her head and stepped into the bathroom to take a long and hot shower. 

(Idiot)

<><><><>

Wet hair muffled in the towel, hands busy chopping the vegetables when a voice came from her behind. 

"Fayra Bibi, Dadi Jaan ki tabiyat ab kesi hai?” the maid who was working in this house for the last few years asked in a small voice. 

(Fayra Bibi, how is Grandma's health now?)

“Better," Fayra threw a glance over her shoulder and replied in a hushed tone. 

“Are you going or some work is still left?" Fayra asked, again resuming the chopping. 

“I was about to go back, do you have some work for me?" The maid asked and Fayra looked at her then nodded. 

“Danish ke room se unka charger le aogi please?" She asked and the maid shook her head. 

(Will you bring the charger from Danish's room?)

“Nhi bibi, koi aur kaam ho to bta dijiye… Danish sahab gussa ho jate hain agar main unke kamre me chali jau. Wo to safai bhi tab karate hain jab wo mojud ho ya Maizah bibi waha ho. Main koi chor thodi hu ki unke kamre se kuch chura lungi, aapke ghar me itne saalo se kaam kar rhi hu, kabhi koi cheez idhar ki udhar huyi ho to bataiye.” The maid was quite rude towards Danish's behaviour, and her disappointment was valid but Fayra was surprised. When did Danish become so rude? As far as she knew, he was always kind towards househelp. 

(No ma'am, give me some other work. Danish sir gets angry if I enter his room. He only allows cleaning when he or Maizah ma'am is there. I am not a thief who steals from his room. I have worked here for years; tell me if anything has ever gone missing.)

“Okay, you go. I'll take it myself.” Fayra dismissed the maid and focused on making soup for Momina. Rizwis still disliked cooking food by maids, now the cleaning and laundry were done by househelp but the kitchen was managed by the ladies only. After Sara's paralysis Fayra started cooking, sometimes she took help from YouTube, and the other times she was guided by Fiza or Momina, eventually, she became more than a survival cook. 

“Perfect." Tasting a spoonful of soup as well as the daal rice she muttered with a huge grin. A perfectly cooked meal without anyone's help was no less than an award to her. 

<><><><>

"What the hell,” Fayra muttered while running her gaze everywhere. “From when he became so saliqemand (well organised)?” Seeing the well organised room, Fayra was shocked. She stepped into this room after months. While searching for the charger she opened the drawer of the nightstand and a smile crawled to her lips. The box was resting in it...

She drew it out and touched the flowers, made up of golden beads and mirrors, as presents on it. 

A ten year old Fayra was crying sitting on the stairs, Sara was angry because of her stubbornness of not eating food properly, eventually she left her only daughter without paying attention to the tears falling from her eyes.

“Why are you crying?" Sitting on the same stair Danish put an arm around her shoulders, slowly pulling her into a soft hug. Holding her chin in between her first finger and thumb.

"Danish bhai, I have to decorate a box and take it to the school, the best one will get a colouring kit. But mummy is not listening to me. Tomorrow is the last date Danish bhaiiiiii.” And she cried so hard that Danish couldn't help but smile. She was crying for a shoe box decoration and he thought there was something serious.

“Stop crying, come with me.” Holding her hand Danish took her to his room, with all efforts he arranged some old plastic beads and button sized mirrors. Using spray paint he coloured them golden and covered the box with white paper. Meanwhile the little Fayra was having a chocolate given by him only. 

“Danish bhai, I'll share the colours with you if I win the colouring kit.” That was the sweetest thing she could do for Danish but the sixteen year old boy had no interest in colours. 

"You just stop crying, it will be the most expensive gift for all of us. Type eyes are tear-tank." He mocked and Fayra huffed.

“Do that work. Silently." She ordered. Danish crossed his arms on his chest while leaving the work and glaring at her.

"Don't you love? Do you want me to cry again and be upset?” 

"Jitni tum zaban chalati ho agar utna hi dimaag aur hath pair chala lo to tumhare grades bhi behtar ho jaye aur ye sab kaam bhi hame na karna pade." Danish, as usual, didn't let the chance go away to scold her and she huffed while leaving the room, and slept with a puffed face. 

(If you ran your brain, hands, and feet as much as you run your mouth, your grades would improve, and we wouldn't have to do all this work either.)

When she woke up at the time of dinner a white box was resting on her study table, a mirror in the centre and golden beads around it to make a beautiful flower. There were many flowers on the boundaries of the box, each of them outlined with black marker. Fayra's happiness had no boundaries, she was sure, only she would win the competition but life doesn't give you what you ask for. Unfortunately there were more beautifully decorated boxes present in the class. The next day she came back from the school with a lost smile, broken heart and shattered confidence. 

Now, some beads from the middle of flowers were missing, the mirrors lost their shine, the golden pain wasn't golden anymore, it turned blackish and the white paper covering the box was dirty. Still Danish kept the thing Fayra had given him in childhood. 

She smiled and opened the box. It was full of specs boxes.

Putting the box back to its place she searched for the charger for another ten minutes just to find on the switch board where she should check at the very first place. 

<><><>

“Come fast, the lunch is ready." Fayra entered into the hospital room and Danish looked up in disbelief. He didn't want to have anything cooked by Fayra, he was trying his best to forget her then why life was making situation awkward as well as difficult for him? Sharing the same room with Fayra, regardless of the situation, was the worst thing he could do in his life after divorce but here she was always around him, talking to him, bringing food for him. 

"You stay with Dadi Jaan, I'm going home.” He stood up, Momina was still sleeping peacefully because of some medicines and painkillers.

"Have lunch then go.”

"I'll eat something in home.”

"Why did you ask me to bring the charger of you have to leave just after my arrival?” 

"I.. I just didn't think about it." Danish shrugged and stepped towards the door. Fayra sighed. She knew what he was doing. Avoiding her!

“Danish,”  

“Fayra, I'm not a toddler who needs someone to feed me, I can feed myself." He tried his best to be rude while turning towards Fayra but he was shocked to see her standing near him with a charger in her hand. 

“Fine, go and charge your mobile yourself." She huffed and about to shove  the charger back in the bag when he snatched it away from her hand. "Give it to me." And he was gone. 

Fayra huffed, glaring at the door from he just left she turned back to take a seat but her gaze went to the mobile phone present on the medicine table. 

“Is he mad or what?" Mumbling that she picked the mobile and walked after him in a hurry. 

When she crossed the glass door of the hospital, he was on the walkway, built in the middle of a grass bed and flowers, “Danish wait…” The call stopped him. 

His fingers balled up. 

Pain converted into Irritation. Irritation into frustration and Frustration into fury. Meanwhile Fayra came in front of him which eventually worked as a cold water on the fire. 

"You forget it." Passing the mobile phone to him she waited for a little longer to get an answer or at least a thanks but he didn't meet his eyes to her and turned to go back after taking the mobile from her hand. When did she expect this rudeness from him? 

“Danish." Her voice stopped him again, he didn't want to see her face but unwillingly turned to see her. 

“Hmm?" 

“C—can't we become the older versions of Fayra and Danish again? When we were best friends.” it wasn't a lie, it was the most beautiful time when Fayra and Danish were best friends. No one could handle them better than each other, their bond, their care, their trust was unmatched. “Please. I miss that Danish.” She muttered, eyes filled with hope, heart begging to relish the same bond between these two but Danish stayed silent while, continuously seeing in her eyes as if trying to find the luthe once he saw in these eyes. Maybe it wasn't luthe but something else. 

"Older versions of Fayra and Danish?” while seeing everywhere other than her face, he smiled bitterly— the kind of smile people wear when they realise something precious is gone forever. He silently looked at her, a little longer then looked away, and laughed at himself. "I also miss that version of us.” he nodded, eyes still reflecting pain, silence was contrasting with the rhythms of their hearts. But for how long could he be silent? “But…” he took a deep breath and sighed 

"But that Danish can't come back, we can't go back in time. Let's embrace this version of ourselves." He shrugged while accepting the fate, still didn't want to see towards her but just one glance and his heart skipped a beat. 

Fayra was seeing him without even blinking, their eyes met, they forgot to look away. Her chest rose and fell. Eyes turned red and then wet. 

"I never wanted to be a stranger for my favourite person. This marriage ruined everything. Our friendship, our bond, our family, our trust… everything. Every single thing is ruined.” Fayra blamed the decision of her family one more time but Danish had a different opinion. 

"No, this marriage or divorce ruined nothing, it was yo…" he wanted, but didn't complete his sentence, he could to say that not this marriage but she ruined everything, however leaving things with an open end already became his habit so he preferred to leave from this place while carrying his broken heart restless and leaving her pondering heart on an edge..