5. Knocking on your door

...

"What are we doing again?"

Ibrahim Ahmad asked as he looked down at his sister, brows drawn together, perplexed.

"Shh." Dahlia put a finger over her lips and hushed. "Keep your voice down."

She was now practically sprinting across their living room, her eyes on the door at the very back of the house, tucked away in a corner.

Ibrahim clamped his mouth shut and kept following her, his longer legs making it easier for him to keep up.

"I saw Mom take the Genie inside Dad's study room," she whispered over her shoulder, beckoning at the door." I need to know what they're talking about."

The Baba Rafique was still a permanent issue in their lives. In fact, his visits were getting more often - despite the rest of the family's displeasure. Even last night, Dahlia heard Ibrahim's mother - Amira - sit down with Junaina and try to knock some sense into her. But her mother remained adamant on her blind faith.

Resentment appeared on Ibrahim's face at the mention of that man. "Mom's still meeting him?" he asked.

"Don't ask," Dahlia scoffed. "He's here everyday."

They were now near the door. Dahlia waved a hand over her shoulder to indicate Ibrahim to step forward and stand besides her.

Ibrahim's face contorted with confusion, along with a slight discomfort appearing on his face as he eyed his sister.

"What am I even doing here?" he asked. "I don't get what you want me to do." He shook his head.

"You're here as backup," Dahlia replied. "In case the situation escalades and I need help. Lily is usually the one carrying out this task. But since she's not here, we have to fill in."

He shot his sister a disapproving look. "Is that what you and Lily do all day?" he asked, aggressively whispering now since they were close enough to the door for their voice to get inside. "Design these ridiculous schemes and plots?"

"Of course not," Dahlia said dismissively. "Mom usually carries all her conversations in the living room. Her voice is pretty loud so we can listen in just fine from the kitchen," she finished, pressing her ear against the door.

Ibrahim stared at her, aghast. "What are you doing?" he cried under his breath. "You can't snoop into other people's conversation! This is haram."

Dahlia straightened and placed a hand on her hip. "I'm legit scared Mom is in there handing him the lease for our house or something. That man is as manipulative as he is cunning. We have to monitor the conversation if we care the least bit about this family's safety!"

"Fine!" Ibrahim admitted defeat, quite reluctantly.

"Besides, I don't snoop in their conversations for fun," she said defensively. "I'm not crazy." Dahlia pressed her cheek against the door again.

"I wouldn't be too sure of that," he muttered under his breath. Regardless, Ibrahim stepped forward and pressed an ear against the door himself, reaching his other hand over Dahlia's shoulder to balance himself.

The door wasn't lock, and it wasn't strong enough to hold stay rooted under both of their weights. It sprung open, causing the cousins to spill inside the room with it.

Loud screeches emerged from the duo. "Ibi!" Dahlia cried out with frustration.

She stumbled on her feet and nearly crashed on the floor. Ibrahim landed equally ungracefully besides her.

The inhabitants of the room turned to them, stunned. The cousins scrambled to get to their feet, highly embarrassed.

"What're you two doing here?" Junaina's sharp voice reached them.

Dahlia worked to regain control of her emotions. Ibrahim looked absolutely clueless. Planning of different ways to kill her brother, she composed her flustered face and looked at her mother. "We were wondering if the - er - guest would like some tea?" she asked hastily.

A cordial smile appeared on the man's face. Her mother, however, narrowed her eyes. Junaina did not buy a single word that left her mouth.

Despite that, she looked at the man and asked politely, "Would you like some tea, Baba Rafique?"

"No, I find it difficult to consume hot beverages unless it is the cold season. Thank you, regardless. Your daughter is kind to care." He flitted his sharp eyes back towards her.

Dahlia had to work hard to keep her face passive.

"Is she the one for whose marriage you've asked for my blessing?" Rafique asked, turning back to Junaina.

"No, she replied. "It was for the older one, Lily."

"Probably why she's having so much trouble choosing a guy for herself," Ibrahim muttered under his breath, so low that only Dahlia could hear him. She immediately found herself forgiving Ibrahim for being an idiot and busting them, and bit her bottom lip to fight the laugh threatening to escape her lips.

The cousins awkwardly stood there, gritting their teeth, as Baba Rafique continued to 'pray' for all the sisters to find righteous husband, the entire household to prosper in all aspects of there lives.

As they were finally granted relief and allowed to leave, neither Dahlia nor Ibrahim wasted a second before sprinting out of the room.

"He sounds well spoken." Ibrahim mused the moment they stepped out of the room, a frown appearing between his brows.

"This is precisely what bothers me the most!" Dahlia cried. "He is a smart and intelligent man; yet, he choses to scam people for a living. He scares the daylights out of me," she mumbled.

"I think I underestimated him." He halted and looked over his shoulder. "You know what, I think I'll go back and sit with them until he leaves. You were right not to trust Mom alone with him. I'll make up a story. But I refuse to snoop," He quickly added, throwing her a look.

Despite that, Dahlia felt a relief in her heart. "Yes, please do whatever. As long as they're not left unsupervised." Then her face darkened as she said, "Meanwhile, I have some tea to make."

Salman arrived at the domestic terminal of Hazrat Shahjalal International airport with the rest of the employees of Chattarjee Foods Limited on a bright Wednesday.

After landing on the airport and collecting their luggage, they waited outside for the company cars. The intense heat was battering down without mercy. It wasn't even summer yet, but afternoons spent outdoors were already becoming an unbearable thought.

They drove through newly-built modern highways of one of the most densely populated metropolis in the world, with deeply rooted Mughal history. They arrived at their hotel soon, and head onto their designated rooms.

Salman let out an exhale of relief as he rolled in his carry-on inside the carpeted, air-conditioned room. He parted the curtains and looked out the floor-length window.

This was Farrah's city.

He knew Farrah wasn't here, she wasn't even in the country. But this was where she lived now.

His mind recalled the photos he had seen the photos on their social media pages. On her honeymoon, with that man. The happy smiles, the heartfelt congratulations in the comments.

Was she laughing at his jokes now? Were they in a room just like this?

Salman soon found himself replaying the last time he spoke to her, the day he lost her forever.

Salman had barged into her room, in the middle of the wedding preparation, on the eve of her wedding.

Dahlia and a couple of her other friends were in the room with her, helping her get dressed. They all stopped and stared at him in shock, their laughter dying down at his presence.

Farrah stood up and turned to face him. His heart clenched at her sight. She looked how she was supposed to when she finally became his - adorned in a red saree.

"What are you doing here, Salman?" Layla was the one to break silence.

Her words slipped over his head, he was too captivated by whom he was watching.

"Are you actually doing this?" he asked Farrah, disbelieve coating his voice.

"Are you really asking me if I'm getting married mere hours before my wedding?" she asked in return.

"How could you?"

Her eyes hardened. "Salman, please leave."

Salman stood rooted to the spot staring at her through a haze of emotions, wondering if she was the same girl he had known all his life and grew up with.

"You need to leave, Salman. Please." Layla spoke this time.

But he couldn't, when his heart and soul was standing right before him.

"Now is not the time." Dahlia whispered from his right, startling him. He glanced at her. She shot him a pleading look.

Salman stumbled backwards, staring at the girl he loved, realizing he was losing her forever. Dahlia slowly closed the door between them. "Sorry." she murmured before cutting his view of her, slamming the door on his face.

As soon as the door in his mind shut, there was a knock on his actual door, ripping him out of his thoughts.

Salman slightly lifted his head to confirm if he had hallucinated or if there was actually someone outside his room.

The soft knock resonated again.

He got out of the trance he was in. His mind was still churning those ugly memories, his heart heavy. He dropped his head on his cupped palms and let out a deep breath.

The knock repeated with the same rhythm.

He headed towards the door, shaking himself out of the memory that seemed to follow him everywhere he went.

He finally opened the door. There was a girl on the other side.

The hijabi's hand was raised to touch her knuckles to the door again. She quickly lowered her hand, before she hit him in the chin. Her doe-liked eyes widened at his sight, recognition flashing in them. She had an oval face with sharp features, yet everything about her radiated softness.

Salman stared at her with confusion as her face cycled a mix of emotions. "Can I help you?" he asked.

She pursed her lips, as if unhappy by the thought of speaking to him. Depsite that, she started answering.

"The hotel swapped our suitcases," she said briskly. "The one you have in there is mine and the one I have out here is yours." She beckoned to the suitcase, an awful similar to his in appearance, upright by her right knee.

"Oh," he responded, looking over his shoulder to find the suitcase that was rolled in a corner a while ago, sitting exactly where it was left.

He turned straight to see the hijabi looking to the hallway on her left, adamantly avoiding to look at him.

"Are you sure?"

She reluctantly faced him again. "Yes. I checked. I wouldn't be here otherwise."

He frowned, wondering what her deal was. He decided to let it slide to avoid further conversation and instead just breathed, "right."

Salman walked inside the room again, leaving her by the door, and brought the suitcase with him as he looked at her again.

As they exchanged their belongings, he scruitinized her for a moment. "Do you I know you?" he asked, tilting his head slightly.

Holding the handle of her suitcase and shooting him a look of absolute disbelief, she rolled her eyes and walked away without a reply.