LIFE SUCKS BEFORE IT ENDS

by

KAREENA MAHESHWARI

Dedicated

To all souls trying to heal

Unsent Letter 1

I can’t handle these panic attacks anymore!! These are getting more and more horrible.

Please help me out. Please, get me out of this shit.

Please take me out of here; it’s making me more suffocating.

No one likes me. No one wants to talk to me. They only talk whenever they need my help.

Everybody thinks I am mentally abnormal. Yes, I am. But, not in the way they think.

Please! Understand my situation.

Get me out of here.

No. No. Not back home. I don’t want to stay there either. Or I don’t want to live anymore.

If you can take me out of this world, I’ll be more thankful to you.

Can you hear me? Are you there?

Please... Please... Please... Help me….

Your Aria Shah...

Unsent Letter 2

Is it okay to not feel okay?

Even in the time when everything around you is going okay.

Is it okay to say, “Nothing is okay...”?

Telling the truth without giving any justification is also okay.

Is it okay to feel low like the deep sea of depression?

You have remained without voice because no one is talking to you.

Is it okay to lie for a lie after a lie?

Then finding out that you have messed up with all lies.

Is it okay to hide your neurological disorder?

Because you are afraid of what people will think.

Or how they will react and treat you.

Your Aria Shah...

Chapter 01

I thought it was a horrible dream.

I was feeling dizzy and pain in my whole body. A nurse took out all my metallic things, like the hair clips, watch bracelets, etcetera. Another nurse turned on the bore like a structured machine and sent my body into that.

After sometimes the bore light up and some coils inside it moved. I found myself in front of some computerized system. In the silence of the hospital room, my head started questioning again, ‘What the hell is going on?’ Well, the best part was that my body was not hurting anymore.

“Holy God, what an incubus it was!” I mumbled when I woke up and found myself in the hospital bed. With some movements, my hand started hurting. Someone had injected a drip into a nerve in my left hand and spiked the other end into the bottle.

There was no one—no nurse, no doctor. I felt the pain in my tongue while mumbling to myself, "No, Aria, relax; it’s a dream." Undoubtedly, my dreams were always hilarious, but the pain I was feeling was legitimate. "You should turn off your mind for a few moments." I mumbled and slept back.

04th March 2022

12:00. p.m.

On the next day, I woke up in the same room, in the same bed in the same position but with no drip on. When I looked around, I found a boy in the room who might be a nurse.

Folding head into the phone, like texting someone. Young enough to have a date at night. He was taller but not more than Elton. He was wearing frameless glasses and had a wide smile with a good shave, giving him a good look.

I tried to call him, but my tongue was not supportive. My mind was blank, and I was having too many questions. 'Where am I? Who is with me? What happened to me?'

“Hey, man.” Finally, I called him in a louder voice after so many trails, and he listened. He put his phone in his pocket and walked toward me.

“How are you, ma’am?” He asked me. I was blankly reading his name in my mind, 'Margie Stevie,' written over the strip attached to his dress coat.

“Are you okay, ma’am Aria Shah?” He asked me again. I opened my mouth and tried to speak but couldn't. I took out my wounded tongue and showed him.

Margie wondered at first about what I was doing, then he was shocked looking at my wounded tongue. A different expression dropped over his face, like sympathy or sorrow.

“Oh, I am so sorry. Before anything else, I have to treat your tongue.” He said it with congeniality in his voice. As Margie turned around and took a step backward, I held his hand and stopped him. I tried to speak again. I wanted to say something, but my damaged tongue wasn’t letting me speak.

“Hold on, ma'am," Margie said, helping me to sit on the bed. As he leaned towards me, his smell made me feel good.

I looked up at him. Our eyes locked in a moment. Then I saw that he was on duty. ‘Stop being crazy, Aria, and look at your condition,’ I averted my gaze, but his smell enveloped my mind. It was strong enough for a girl to fall over a boy. From medicine's smell to perfume's smell, I was feeling helpless. Margie looked around, and he found a notepad on the stole beside the bed. He took out a pen from his court and handed it to me.

I started writing on the notepad. When I was done with writing, I handed the notepad back to Margie. What I had written put Margie in shock, and he must have thought that I had probably lost my mind.

“I am calling your friends and Doctor Henry. Plus, I will take out cream, Somo gel for your tongue that will help your tongue to recover.” He walked out of the room.

A patient could never be calm. My mind ran behind too many things. I would search out different things in the drawer.

My mind was running behind different questions. Some stupid questions in my mind were disturbing the silence of the room. At first, I thought someone had caged me, arrested me, or tortured me; I must have lost my track and gone through an accident, or my father had tried to kill me. ‘MOM?’

'My mother! Where is she?' Anything could be possible in my situation because I remembered nothing. I started creating ideas to be freed out of that care room before someone would arrive. Unfortunately, I was unable to move without any support. Like my tongue, my feet felt wounded. There, Margie was back with a doctor.

“Aria...” He said, and I thought to myself that he'd be thinking, 'You are a ruined person.'

“Tell me, did your boyfriend break your heart, or your parents are brutal?”

I was looking at him so strangely—what he was saying and how he could say that. “Do you know what happened to you and who you're?”

I shook my head, "No."

“You're an epilepsy warrior, carrying a damaged brain.” Saying these words, he slapped on my face.

“Excuse me, Doctor.”

Two girls entered the room, and one of them replied, “Excuse me."

It did not take a second for me to recognize the girls. “Emmy, Liza, what are you both doing here, and what happened to me?”

On that, Margie got shocked. “This girl really has a damaged brain,” he murmured.

“Your memory returned in seconds,” Margie interrupted me. This time Margie was like a pain in my ass.

“We don't know what has happened to you. You just suddenly fell, and we brought you here. What’s in her reports? Is she fine now, doctor?” Emmy asked the doctor.

“She got an epilepsy attack, a minor attack. She is safe now. You brought her here on time." The doctor told Emmy, then looked at me, "It happens in this condition. You don't have to worry about your memory. Sometimes, you might not remember anything for a temporary time after a long sleep. It is all normal in your condition. Did this always happen to you?” Dr. Henry Scott asked.

“What do I not remember?” I asked.

The doctor looked at Emmy and said, "I want to know about her medical history. Has she ever suffered?"

"No, we have never seen her like this before. We are living together from the last year.”

“But she took more stress for studies,” Liza continued while looking at me. “We never gave it any importance. It’s quite normal in our generation; every second person looks for consultants and psychologists. Moreover, we are having an exam and thesis now. I think she is worried about exams.”

“Miss Aria, does anyone from your family have this problem because it can be transferred through genes?” Doctor asked me.

“No”. It was not in the genes but since birth. 'Yes, of course. I have suffered from this a few times in the past. Knowing that epilepsy is a brain disease. I have been ordered by my parents, oh sorry, have been ordered by mom to keep it secret, and I am following her orders.' I thought.

“Okay, don’t worry. I'll give you some medication. Make sure to take it on time.”

As Emmy, Liza, and I left the hospital, Liza’s eyes caught the KFC on the other side of the road. Liza was a foodie, and she could never skip any food place without having a taste. She never cared about time or money. It was her dialogue, "It’s better to borrow money for food instead of wasting it on other things."

Liza pointed, “Guys, look what’s there.”

Emmy asked, “What?”

“KFC, girls”.

Emmy was not pleased with this and said, "Please, Liza, not this time.”

"Oh, come on, it will not take more time.” Liza insisted.

“You know we have exams tomorrow. Then why are you insisting?" Emmy asked her. I was blank, standing there and hearing them argue. Moreover, I never liked KFC.

“Please girls, Aria, why don’t you say anything to Emmy? We will not spend more time.”.

Emmy sighed, "Okay, fine.”

After the KFC, we got back to the flat. We didn't have time to go back to the bed because books on study tables were waiting for us. We were batchmates from university. We almost spent our nights gossiping, and during the exam days, sleep would hit our minds so hard as if we had worked all day so hard and we were so tired. 'Bullshit.'

My mind was still processing, 'What happened to me?' I was also thinking about how Liza knew about my mental health and depression. 'It’s true; I have never been out of depression. This has been the case since I got enrolled in the English Department at NUST. Taking pills every day has become my kind of thing. But how could they both know about my health problem?'

Emmy might know how to read people's faces. She studied psychology and excelled in her class. She was intelligent and could interpret facial expressions. 'Or has she seen me taking pills? No, I do not take pills when they are around.'

'Did Elton share it with them? OMG, I understood we are more than friends, but what is this? Elton, if you have done this, I swear it will end in the worst way. What have you done, Elton?’ I spent my two hours thinking about such things and still had four hours left behind.

Emmy’s voice interrupted my thoughts. “Liza, you are talking with Munawar. Don’t you have exams tomorrow? No, sorry. Today by 9:00 a.m."

"Wait, he's still awake!” Emmy taunted Liza like a God-gifted big sister. They were closer and could be. They both lived here together for three and a half years before I moved here too. “And what are you thinking, Aria? What happened had already happened? Don't take stress and start studying.” Emmy said. 'Does she care about me? No, of course not. Nobody cares about me other than my mom.'

Chapter 02

End of 7^th Semester

Islamabad had cold weather with mown grass all the time. The sky was like a postcard—dreamy, clouds full of rain. The sun was playing hide and seek with clouds. According to Emmy’s mom, "There is always a 95% chance of rain in Islamabad." Emmy’s parents were living in the northern area of Pakistan.

“No, mom, we don’t have rain yet, but it looks like it will be here soon. You take care of Baba Jan and yourself... Okay mom, I am getting late for the exam; please pray." Emmy’s gossip was making my brain burst in the early morning.

Before Emmy ended the call, Liza took the phone from Emmy, asking Emmy’s mother to make a prayer for her too. The call ended, yet the gossips of Emmy and Liza were continued.

“Emmy, did it rain in Lahore?”

"Yes.”

“I wish we would have the rain here also after the exam. You know, I want aesthetic pictures for my social media pages.” Liza told her.

"You have no worries about exams, Liza?”

"I do. However, worries don’t work out, and we are in senior year, the last year, so stress zero and fun on peak, and I know how to manage with these types of professors.” She had a wise expression on her face.

The orange-colored university van honked outside. Inside, Emmy and Liza started calling me. I got out of the shower in a hurry, running after things, right after my subconscious.

I looked out of the window to the ground, which was six floors down. There, the hairless, brown van driver pressed the horn for long enough to wake up the whole plaza. I called him from the window and asked him to wait for two minutes. He sighed and pressed his face against the glass.

It always happened as you tried to look normal, but your face always showed how messed up you were. There I was, with tension on my face and wet hair. Water drops were still falling from the hair on my dark purple unironed dress.

I forgot everything but did not forget to wear the purple dress on 26 March. After all, it was Epilepsy Warriors' Day.

I pulled the front door of the van and sat next to Liza. The driver took us from the plaza to the main road. The main road was clean and less crowded than Karachi's roads.

I had spent my nineteen years in Karachi. However, the three and a half years in Islamabad gave me a long break from the Karachi crowd. There was one thing I always used to miss about moving here, and that was my mom. Now she was not even there in Karachi—not even in this world, though. I had left nothing in Karachi.

'Please, mom, pray for my last exam; you know I have no preparation. You know my mind is often close. So, just help.'

The university road always remained jammed. I was looking out the window and wondering, 'What would happen at the university when other girls would start gossiping.' I was worried about my health condition. Running from the present to the past and thinking about my dead mom, behind the scenes, something was hurting my mind.

Liza and I reached our department. I found Elton gossiping with his friends. Liza punched me, saying, “Look who is waiting for you.” She pointed at Elton.

I looked upwards and stopped there. As Liza moved towards her circle of friends, I called Elton. Without taking time, he moved to me. I told him that I wanted to talk to him after I was done with exams. He said yes. He walked away and continued his gossip with his friends.

Elton had the perfect personality, a character whom every girl would want in her life. Elton had money, height, a car, and perfect skin tone with blue eyes. He had a perfect shave and bony cheeks. He had a side haircut and six packs. He was all the way good-looking, handsome, and crush material for all girls and gays, but me. Our relationship was more than friends, though we loved each other too. 

Sometimes, I got jealous when other girls got in touch with Elton. Other times, I kept distance from Elton. I did this because of my disorders or mental health issues. I was afraid that I would lose him if he came to know about my family’s reality and about my health.

My mind rushed into a bunch of thoughts. I was getting numb. There was something like a knife in my heart. ‘Don’t panic, don’t.’ I ran out of the corridor, toward a corner, took out my breathing spray, and breathed until the time turned around near the exam. ‘Yeah, I am okay. I will do it. No one has seen me; no one matters. I AM OKAY.’

In class, Elton stopped me in the middle as I walked to my seat, held my hand, and asked, “Hey, where did you vanish? I was looking for you."

Before I replied, the professor cut in-between, “You two, gossip after the exam.” The professor pointed towards me, “You, please take your seat.”

“We will talk later."

Prof. Mehar Ali started distributing the question paper. She read the whole paper and helped us understand. “If you have any questions, collect them and note them down. I will come back after an hour and will discuss it again.” She said and walked out of the class, leaving the coordinator teacher in the class.

The exam ended at 11:00 a.m. when some students were already done. For example, Elton. I saw him walking out of the class with his friends. What did the students do after the exam? They'd be discussing the exam paper and asking each other, “How well is the exam done?”

I was already sure about my exam. I couldn’t give my best. Not only in this exam, but I had also not given my best in the last four exams. I spent all my time thinking about what had happened to me last night. When I walked out of the exam hall, Elton was with friends in the corridor waiting for me. I walked towards them and stood beside Elton.

“Someone is here for you, Elton.” One of his friends gave him a gesture.

"We will see you later, Elton." They walked away. Of course, the whole department—almost every second department knew about us, me and Elton.

“Where is your cellphone?” He asked.

“Here.” I showed him the phone I was holding in the hand.

“Oh, I thought it got snatched.”

“Why did you think like that?”

“You were not replying and picking my calls.”

“It’s off.”

“How are you? And how was your exam?”

“Who told you what had happened to me? Did you know anything?”

"No, love, I’m asking in general, how are you? Wait, did anything happen? Is anything wrong?”

There were different expressions on our faces. Elton was looking at me while I was looking around. I bit my lips, which Liza said had made me stand out. I was waiting for a time when nobody would be around to tell Elton everything. Elton waved his hand against my eyes and said, “I am here; tell me what happened.”  He spoke.

“Yes, last night, the doctor diagnosed me with a seizure."

“Wait, what you said, seizure, the epilepsy.”

“Yes.”

“You’re telling this to me now. Are you crazy? You never thought about informing me, and if I had not asked, you wouldn't be telling me. C’mon Aria.”

“Hey… Hey, everything is okay now. Look, I am okay. Liza and Emmy took me to the hospital; we were there from 11:00 pm to 3:00 am. Dr. said it happened because of a genetic problem or due to depression and stress.”

“Do you know what it is actually?”

My heart started racing out fast. I didn't know what he was about to say. The expression on his face was like, 'Oh, my God.'

“I may have known, but don’t remember anything at this moment.”

“Aria, I know about epilepsy. My mom has gone through this for the last five years. In that time, she has taken different medications and visited different doctors. After those years, she was on medications for two years. After that, she became well again. In everyday language, people call it "fits." It’s very dangerous if someone is having epilepsy attacks four or more times a month, like every week."

I stayed silent and looked around. This time, my mind overthought. The faces around me seemed like they knew about my condition and were mocking. 

I blanked out again.

“Where are you lost, Aria?” He snapped.

“Nowhere. What are you saying?"

"I am suggesting you visit some psychologists and neurologists. You can get hints about what is happening to you.” Elton could read my mind. I needed emotional support, and I was going to start crying. “Aria, trust me. I will help you whenever you need me. I will search for a psychologist. I will go with you. Don’t worry, you will be fine. You are not a patient; don’t stress."

‘I don’t know what will happen, and on that day when he comes to know about my past, about my reality. What will happen when he finds me a liar who is lying to him? What will happen, ugh? I hate my liar part.’

“Are you okay?”

“Oh, yes, okay now!”

He took both of my hands and promised. There was fear on my face; my mind was circling, and he could read that. He pulled me close to him and hugged me and relaxed me. I tried to control my tears but lost control. The teardrops fell on the back of his shirt.

Unsent Letter 3

I don’t want to take antidepressants anymore.

I think these are making me more useless than I was before antidepressant addict.

I can’t even make focus in the class during lectures.

For me, it’s horrible to be sad for no reason.

I hate, I hate every aspect of life very much.

I hate everybody, everything.

I hate people, peace, plans, politics, pink, parties, and perfectionism. (I hate ~ the letter p.)

I am not able to do anything. I think slowly and slowly I am losing all abilities.

My parents thought my health issues occurred because of my focus on books/novels reading and writing.

But that’s not it.

Writing and reading are helping me to live. Ahh, how can I make them understand?

Now my roommates are talking to me rarely.

Everyone who knows about my disorder is making different kinds of rumors.

Your Aria Shah...

Chapter 03

14th August 2020

Had you known what it felt like when your father beat your mother with a leather belt in front of you and your siblings?

Nine days earlier, before mom’s murder had taken place.

Flight back to Islamabad had always excited me, and I had been feeling a little worried about exams, so I had decided to have a little conversation with mom. I had packed up all my necessary things, including clothes, books, etcetera. I had walked out of my room and called my mom. I had to walk inside my parents’ bedroom and found her sitting in the corner of the bed, crying and weeping. Blood had been dripping from her mouth. I looked around as aggression had taken place in my body.

What I found was someone or something bitter, as I always had found in my parents’ bedroom. I had to sit down beside her and wipe her tears and the blood from her face with my scarf. I had to help her stand, and we walked out of the room from the hallway into my room. I had been trying to relax my mom. I had cleaned her face and was asking her, “What had happened, mom? Why is he so sour? I wish that he had not been part of this family.”

“Don’t spill out these words. He is your father.”

This had been the best attribute of every wife. She could never think badly about her husband.

“Then, what can I say, mom? I hate this man. He has been torturing you this much since my birth.”

Some people would come into our lives by mistake, and in my life that person was my father.

As my father had left for office, my mom got back in her position. She had fixed her emotions and brought a fake smile on her face. The scars on her face had raised anger in me. I had always hated to talk with my father. Well, he had never talked to me ever himself.

I had to take my phone and book my ticket for Islamabad. I had not been feeling okay, but I had to go. I had called my brother, but he had been busy and couldn't drop me by the station. So, I had decided to go alone to the station. My father had never helped me or asked what I wanted. He had been a father only by title for me.

I had left my phone in my room and entered the kitchen, where my mom had been cooking pasta and sweet dishes for me. Because my mom had known that I loved to eat sweets a lot. I hugged my mom.

“Umm, my child, see what I have cooked for you.” My mom had to say to me.

“It smells good; let me taste.”

I had taken out the spoon from the rack and tasted Gajar ka halwa. “Umm, so tasty, mommy, put your love a little more.”

At that time, I had not known that was the last time she'd be cooking for me, the last time I'd be seeing her. No next time. I had been unaware of future incidents.

“Tell me something? Are your wounds still hurting?” I had asked.

              “No, no, I am all okay. It’s a routine thing.”

“Trust me, mom, I am sorry.”

"Oh, my child, don’t be. Have you called Moaiz?”

“Yes, but he is busy. You don’t worry, I will manage things.”

I had moved out of the kitchen carrying some unclear thoughts and questions for my mother’s situation. 'Was it my presence, my birth, or my health?'

Because as much as my mom had told me about my father, he was not like this much bitter before my birth. On that note, I had felt sorry. I had never wanted to hurt someone.

I had been sitting at the dining table, staring at my watch and biting my nails. I had always wondered why my father didn't want me around. Why he hadn’t ever wanted girl as his child. It had been like, 'The more you try to walk away from something, the closer you'd be getting to that... So don’t waste your energy and let it happen.'

“Stop thinking and biting nails, big sister.”

“Moaiz, you said you were busy, then how are you here?

“I'm here because you are leaving, and it will be peace in the home after you leave.”

“Am I disturbing you?”

“You can say that.”

“Mom, have you listened? He is saying that I am making trouble for you guys.”

“He is joking. Aria, I have packed some food for you.”

“Okay mommy. Moaiz, pass the water.”

As I had picked up a glass of water, I felt my hands were shivering. 'Stop shivering, bl**** a******. Stop.'

“What happened, Aria? Are you okay?” Moaiz asked.

“Yes, I am fine. It's just a headache. Are you done with lunch, because we are getting late?”

“Yeah done, and take the headache pill, Aria.” Moaiz had taken out a pill from the first-aid box, handing it over to me as he had gone to my room. He had brought my suitcase from there, and we left home for the train.

****

The train was a giant with monster sounds filled with sadness. Giving the s*** stops off 30 minutes by each city, not having the convenience sleeping sets. While travelling, I didn't talk to the people sitting next to me. People were gossiping; some were chewing and were smelling like dirt, like the two that had sat across my seat... Those two men dropped off at the next stop after Karachi.

I had then finally opened my shoulder bag to take out some food as I felt like starving. I found some chocolates in my shoulder bag, which was a little gift from Moaiz. I took out the lunchbox and opened it. The smell of mutton biryani had increased my hunger more than ever. The taste of biryani in my mouth had me feeling like exploring bliss.

The woman sitting on the opposite seat had dropped her chin outside the window. I looked at her and offered her biryani, but she was hesitating.

Sitting in one position for hours had been hard for me, so I had taken my current reading with me. It was "All the Bright Places" by Jennifer Niven. I tried to read the book, but the early morning scenario of home in my head had been disturbing me. That had made me realize that I am the only reason for this condition of my mom. If I hadn't had disorder or had not been born, things would be different, and my father would not beat my mom; my father’s reaction would be different; there would have been happiness around in our home if I had not been there or not had any diseases.

If my thoughts had not misled me three years earlier, I would have killed myself. I would be dead and buried with daisies on my grave. The family would've marked a death anniversary on the calendar, and today, my father would not beat my mom.

Where do I put my dead one alive, my dad?

Chapter 04

23^rd August 2020  

On the day mom had been murdered.

I had been working at my desk in the office when my phone buzzed. Unfortunately, it had not been on silent and kept ringing until I took the phone out of my bag. I had to find myself being surprised by Moaiz's call. I had not known why he was calling during my working hours.

“Hello?”

“Aria, Mom left us alone.”

“What are you saying, Moaiz? Everything is fine?”

“Please come home now, Aria. I am alone.”

“What has happened, Moaiz?”

"Aria, our dad, that brutal man killed our mom.”

Outside of the office, the road had been jammed with traffic. The sun had made its way home. 'Home...' I realized my home was no longer like the one it had been. 

Tears had been falling as the pain was still unbearable. I wanted to cry aloud, to scream like hell. However, I could not. I could not want to mess in my professional life. I had got back to open the door. As I had swung the door, a girl standing there gave me some odd looks for seconds. Then she said, “Your mascara is running out, making your face horrible.”

I got in and gave her space to move out of the office. I had to move to the washroom and lock the door behind so nobody could enter unless I didn’t unlock it.

I had made myself look better and reached my work desk. I wrapped up all my work and left for my apartment.

By 10:00 p.m. I had done all my work and was waiting long for mom’s call. But there was no mom’s call. Then I had to realize that there would be no call coming from her. There was no more her. 'She is no more. There is no one left to call me or ask me how my heart is doing. Did I eat? There is no one left to listen to my whole day story, my issues, and my happiness.'

No one.

Unsent letter 04

There is nothing left, mom. I think I should take a knife and cut myself out of this wretched life.  

This is the only way to go to you.

Well, I can kill myself easily because there is no one left to worry for me.

However, you were not worried about me. If you were a little bit, then you must have tried to save your life for me. If you ever cared for me, then you had not left me in my bad condition this early.

Please reply, mom…

Your Aria Shah…

I could not believe that my dad had ruined our lives. Trust me, if courtesy had given me a chance to kill him, I would not take time to think. He had frustrated us all.

'It is killing me, ah.'

'Why did God just let a brutal man kill my mother?'

'Your father killed your mother! Was it not murder?'

I had screamed aloud until a voice came from the other side of the door. I ignored that at first, but someone had been knocking repeatedly. I wiped out my tears and unlocked the door. There was help on my doorstep.

“Are you okay, little girl?”

“Yes. All fine.”

“I heard someone screaming. I thought you might need help, so…”

“Thank you. But I am okay. Thank you again for checking on me.”

The girl from the next room gave me a wide smile. I shut the door and walked inside the washroom. I had to let my body soak up in the tub full of water. I wanted that water to absorb all my hurtful feelings, to work like glue to stick all my broken parts back. I cried again and cried so hard, screaming like hell. I used all the wrong words for my father, because that asshole had ruined our lives. I had lost what I had. I had lost my mom, and I was out of mind.

Later, at mid-night, when my eyes had opened, I found my head on the floor and my body in the tub. Tap was running. I tried to stand up, but I felt ached. My head was sallow. I had wounded my tongue again. I did not remember what had happened before.

The last thing I had remembered: I was in the office, and the manager had yelled at the whole team. I could not remember when I got home and in this tub.

I changed my wet clothes and cleared all the mess. Only the thing I knew at the time was I get fits in my sub-consciousness. After some time when I checked my phone, the notification bar was full of missed calls and texts from Moaiz. I got worried for a second, then I had to check texts and remembered the whole thing.

In a hurry, I packed my bag and got on Karachi’s flight.

When I had reached home, I saw too many people were there. Our relatives, friends, and neighbors. Police had been there collecting clues against my father. Moaiz had sat in the corner of the hallway, crying so hard. He had been repeating a few lines again and again, “He killed my mom...”

Nobody had noticed me at the doorstep until my suitcase fell over the floor with a huge sound, 'Thhhuzzz'. I had got blank, staring at the dead body of my mom, lying dead on a wooden floor covered with the white sheet. Everyone present there had turned toward me. Moaiz ran to me. 

I was feeling nothing. I had lost something big, and no one could get what was going on in my mind. No one could fill up that emptiness, not even Moaiz. We had lost our parents, and that was enough for us to get down in a deep ocean of sadness. 'Look, I am still in that trauma. That accident caused too many other accidents. Each one is still hurting me hard.'

People had been coming, seeing my mom, and going back. But we had not been allowed to move her until the investigation was done. There were several marks on my mom’s body, as if she had been beat up and tortured. My father had beaten her a week ago when I was there. She had never told us about this till we found her crying and weeping. We used to see her crying and covered in marks. We had always seen dad's loud, red eyes after their fights. 

It was years ago when my dad had broken her hand from the elbow, her upper left teeth, and then recovered it with a cap so no one could find it. But I had not known that their relationship would end up that way. I had not imagined him as a killer... killing my mom. 'I wish I could have stood up for her.'

'F*** that man.' Whenever I had thought about it, my blood heated up, and all I wanted was to kill him back.

The next day, after the funeral and police had arrested dad, I decided to get back to Islamabad, but Moaiz’s condition worried me. For me, staying back at home with Moaiz was necessary. On the other hand, a long vacation could affect my job, and at that moment, Moaiz was more important for me than my job. I had started unzipping my bag and wrote a leave application for work from home for one week to HR.

When I was in the kitchen making dinner, Moaiz entered there and said, “Thank you for staying.”

“I can't leave you alone in this typical time. If I had decided to leave, I would be selfish."

              “Thank you again.” He was smiling with tears in his eyes and looking down. “Do you need help, Aria?”

“Umm, no.”

At the dining table, we both sat next to each other from the left side of the table. Chairs were empty on the right side. In the presence of dad, we had never talked; with mom, we had never stopped talking. I tried to break the silence. "Moaiz, when are you leaving for aboard? I did not get time to ask you.”

              “Oh, yes, actually, I was going to tell you about this. The process is complete. I am waiting for Visa to come around. It will be in two or three weeks.”