Bewitched

24

MUNTASSIR

The scent of home hit me the moment I opened the door, and for the first time in what felt like ages, I let out a breath that wasn't weighed down with sadness. My mother was there, standing in the doorway with her arms wide open, her eyes shining with warmth and love. I didn't hesitate. I stepped into her embrace, resting my head on her shoulder like I used to when I was a kid.

"You're going to be okay," she whispered, rubbing my back the way she always did when I was feeling low.

I pulled away, giving her a small smile. Her words were comforting, but there was still a part of me that wasn't so sure. Still, the warmth in her eyes was enough to make me believe it, even for a moment.

"Everyone's waiting for you. We're having dinner together tonight," she said, looping her arm through mine and leading me toward the dining room.

I smiled, following her lead. As I walked into the room, I spotted Baba sitting at the head of the table. He stood up and pulled me into a bear hug the moment he saw me.

"Finally back from your sabbatical?" Baba teased, clapping me on the back. As we pulled away, he gave me a mock-serious look. "I'll give you one more day of slacking before I have to fire you."

Laughter erupted from the table, and I couldn't help but grin.

"I'm done slacking," I assured him, taking a seat. "But thanks for the grace period."

I greeted Tauhida and Laila, with hugs and kisses on their cheeks, and then turned to Hamid, who was trying to sneak in a quick bite while everyone was distracted. I reached over and smacked the back of his head.

"Ow!" Hamid winced, but he grinned at me. "Missed you too, bro."

"I know you did," I said, shaking my head at him. His cheeky smile was infectious.

The nephews, wild and carefree as always, ran around the table, weaving through chairs and beneath the tablecloth like it was an obstacle course. I couldn't help but laugh at their antics, my heart feeling a bit lighter. This was exactly what I needed—my family, my home. The noise and the laughter, the familiar smells of my mother's cooking—it was like a balm to my soul.

I dug into my plate of fried rice, savoring the taste. It wasn't just food. It was home, comfort in every bite. For a while, I let myself get lost in the conversation and laughter around me. It felt like the weight on my shoulders had been lifted—at least for tonight.

But just as I was about to take another forkful of rice, my phone chimed from my pocket. I hesitated before pulling it out, already feeling my stomach twist. I knew, somehow, that this text was going to change the mood.

Sure enough, it was from her. Mumtaz.

She asked if she could take Mr. Whiskers to Milan with her. The cat... our cat, really, but mostly hers now. She said she'd already prepared the paperwork and just needed my approval.

I stared at the message for a long moment, my appetite suddenly vanishing. My chest tightened, and I could feel a knot forming in my throat. Mr. Whiskers... the one thing left that connected us, in a way. A cat. How had it come to this?

I typed back an "okay" because the truth was, I didn't want any more reminders of her. As much as I loved that cat, I couldn't look at him without thinking of her, of the life I thought we were going to have. Letting the cat go was the last step in letting her go.

She replied quickly, saying I could come over and see him before she left on Friday. I stared at that message even longer, feeling the ache in my chest grow heavier. See her? See the cat? I didn't know if I could handle it. I texted back, "I'd rather not," hoping I didn't sound too cold. But seeing her—no, I wasn't ready for that.