Sin

Chapter 8

Pov: Ayat 

"Can't let you go home so soon," Sumaiya persuaded me to stay a bit longer, using her most persuasive charm. "Ayat, would you please stay a little longer?" Zara's demeanor resembled that of a delicate sugar cube, attempting to melt my resolve with her endearing gestures. "Okay, I'll stay a little longer," I reassured, eliciting smiles all around. Mrs. Rehman's kind insistence that Ehaan would drive me back and inform my parents of my late return touched my heart deeply. It's a point of pride when people perceive me as someone with a wholesome family background, possessing impeccable manners, and projecting a perfect societal image. It's quite an accomplishment, isn't it?

"No worries, aunty. I drove here, and besides, there's nobody at home," I replied with a smile, although a hint of trepidation made my lower lip quiver. "Hey, Ayat! Look what I found—my album! Want to see how adorable I was?" Zara's voice echoed from the living room.

The time slipped away as we browsed through Zara's album, uncovering anecdotes, sweet and tangy, behind each beautiful picture. "Hey, Dr. Noor, check out what I stumbled upon—an album belonging to uncles and Dad," Zara exclaimed, radiating sheer delight as she bounded over to me. She eagerly showcased her father and uncles' images. "This is Uncle Ezaan, and here's Dad," Zara chimed while pointing at the pictures. Throughout her time perched on my lap, she excitedly narrated tales about her uncle. Surprisingly, most pictures featured Ezaan, the middle child, and Emad, yet there was an evident absence of Ehaan.

Pov: Ehaan

After I was interrupted by an emergency phone call that separated me from Ayat, I followed the cheerful coaxing sounds emanating from the living room, accompanied by giggles.

They sifted through our childhood pictures—fleeting moments snatched from the grasp of time, cherished for eternity. I moved closer to Ayat, who held Zara in her lap, completely engrossed in Zara's storytelling. My gaze followed Ayat's as she examined the pictures in her hand.

Isn't it odd? These bittersweet emotions enveloping a nostalgic reminiscence. One picture captured us praying together, performing the Jumu'ah Sunnah prayer, with me seated right between them.

"Hey, Ehaan, could you get a brush and tidy up your brother's hair?" Ma's instructions flowed, while the clicks of the camera and flashes continued incessantly on them, unintentionally neglecting me. Was I invisible? Was my presence so inconsequential that they overlooked me on such an important occasion?

Then, there was that picture which was taken before I was sent to my grandparents' place while the entire family embarked on a three-week trip with their two sons, merely two years older than me. I wasn't allowed to go because I was deemed too young. That year, there were no pictures of me because I seemed to have slipped their minds after their return from the trip. For over five months, I lingered at my grandparents' house, yearning for my beloved family to acknowledge my existence. Although they did acknowledge my existence when I was expelled from school following a fight.

I was reprimanded and questioned about the altercation. "He said I was an orphan, so I had to prove him wrong by fighting back," I responded with such gracefulness that it left my parents astonished. Without much ado, they swiftly brought me back home, away from my cherished grandparents, only to enroll me in a boarding school.

Zara showcased pictures of Ezaan bhai, where he sang on stage; he was allowed to pursue any career or path he desired. On the contrary, I was destined to take over the family company.

Why was it always me? Why couldn't they treat me like they did with my bhais? Why was I constantly expected to embody the perfect son? Why was I perpetually overlooked? Why was I deprived of any freedom? While they pursued their aspirations, I wasn't even permitted to choose my school.

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