Present Day.
Usman stood in the ground at the backside of their mansion whilst his elder brother washed the back yard with their father. He snickered underneath his breath, his pudgy hands holding on to the plum colored viper his father had handed over to him. Of course, the man was delusional if he thought, the Usman Aryan would wipe down the marble floors that were covered in mud as a result of his father and elder brother's activities. He had, quite like an angel on earth stood to the side and warned them. That is if warning meant alarming his mother — who much like his grandfather loved the palatial gardens.
Baking dry heat crackled the splinters of broken woods that Umar had driven his bicycle straight into the bark of one of the many papaya trees whilst trying to prove he had mastered the art of one wheeling. Now with a slackened limb he worked over the lawn with his father to clear the grounds out. The sounds of his bone crackling was almost a bit too satisfying to the ears of the young Usman. Served them right, of course, he thought. Not buying him one because he flunked social studies — which he explained was his father's fault anyways.
"Why don't you help us out?" Aryan wheezed, the blaring gold sunlight burning his skin.
"It's too hot." He rolled his eyes, sipping on the cold glass of lemonade.
Usman fixed the red heart shaped sunglasses perched on top of his stout nose, the jean shorts clung to his legs and the white tank top kept him cool even in the disbarring heat.
"Baap kam kar raha hai koi sharam hai?" Aryan pinched his nose, cursing the day he had his second born.
[Father is working don't you feel ashamed?]
"Everyone pays for their deeds." He clicked his tongue, picking at the skin of his nails.
Chugging down the remnants, tiny seeds — ice cubes and all, Usman sauntered out of the summer sun and walked inside the air conditioned lounge. His crocs, now out of speed mode and cleared of all the mud that had held the heels hostage were thrown off in one corner and the mason jar tumbled on to one of the many glass coffee tables in the room. Lapping at the corner of his mouth, wiping it off with the back of his hand he breathed in harshly, crossing his legs and taking hold of the history textbook. The sounds of his tayi's laughter and his mother's chuckles brought his attention back to the world ripping away from him the euphoric period he was in.
Myra turned the corner with Lyana in tow, her hands the wooden tray laden with her son's favorite foods. He had been studying for most of the day despite the beginning of his vacations. Diligently, still hunched over his text books — she smiled on seeing him scratching the back of his head, the coarse strands spilling out of his fingers as his right hand worked hard with a pencil. Tearing away from her sister-in-law she walked into the lounge, the emerald green sofa's with gold legs looking real inviting as the tiredness of her day caught up with her.
Crossing her legs she patted his sweaty forehead, her heart ached a she imagined her son studying so hard that it ended up giving her a sweaty forehead and back. Kissing the top of his head, Myra forwarded a warm nugget, cooing at him to stop. Usman turned to her with his face marred with tiredness. His eyes deep and glossed over with the fatigue, the muscles of his palms cramped and he whined at being disturbed. Though of course, under his breath he chuckled at watching his mother worry for him. Usman's hands and legs were itching to leap out of his mother's embrace and to take her to the yard, to show her what her husband had done.
