Strings Attached

~Chapter 12~

Assalamu 'alaikum and Hello everyone!! I know I've not updated for a long time now. Life got to me, I guess. Not to forget, laziness and writer's block too :/ 

Anyway, I'm back with a new chapter, in Hidayah's perspective. There's not much happening between the protagonists in this one, but I promise you, the next one is gonna be a shocker! That too will be in Hidayah's perspective, since I want to balance my chapters out. The previous two chapters were in Daniyal's PoV, so I wanted to give you guys a good glimpse into Hidayah's life too. After all, she's the more important protagonist of the two :)

Okay, I'm not giving anything else away ;)

I don't make any promises, but I hope to come back real soon with the next chapter. 

So, without further ado, Enjoy!

xxxxxxxx

Manchester, England.

(Hidayah Ali)

It's been more than a week since dad left for India. Even though I've actually made a friend here and Poulomi's with me at school too, I can't help missing my family and my home. There can't be any replacement for them, I think. 

The person I miss most is my mother and her heavenly cooking. The last time I talked to her, her voice had gone hoarse by the end of the conversation. I didn't tell her half the things I wanted to say; didn't feel like worrying her unnecessarily. But that was when dad was still here. When I talk to her again, I don't think I'd be able to contain myself.

The food here isn't so bad, to be honest. But the feel of home just isn't there. And every time I eat, I can't help thinking of what mum would've cooked at home. It's like, I'm constantly drinking in all the homesickness with my food. I haven't forgotten Raafiah and Samira either. I mean, how can I? Caroline and Poulomi may have become my friends but I can't replace my sister and my bestie with them. 

Those two members of our monkey gang too are constantly in touch with me but I miss going out with them. I miss teasing Raf and fighting with Sammy. I miss reading magazines and comics with them or simply pranking around with them and driving mum up the wall in rage. And now that he's gone, I miss my dad too. I miss his warm hugs, encouraging words and his gentle, calming presence. I miss dadi (paternal grandma), her funny midnight stories and her surprisingly modern take on everything.

And... I miss my music, more than I ever expected to. Thinking about all that I'm missing out on brings tears to my eyes. How could I leave all of it, just like that?! I remember this saying mum used to reiterate whenever we oohed and aahed at pictures of foreign luxury hotels or stared moony-eyed at angrez guys in magazines. 'Door ke dhol suhaane hote hain', she used to say. (Could be an equivalent of 'grass is greener on the other side'). Maybe mum was right after all. 

There are perks of living here, like 24-hour electricity and free Wi-Fi, but these are trivial things and easily accessible in Delhi too. They don't matter in the long run. If there's any value of the degree, I could've got it through an online course too. When I think about such things, I feel stupid. About a hundred times a day, I question my sanity of taking the decision that I've actually taken. And I feel as if I've made a mistake coming here. But I can't go back until I'm assured of a good future, that much I'd decided even before I came into this country.