Holding on and Letting go [Complete]

17) Three nicknames in Three meetings.

As she swished the eggs in the stockpot containing water, she turned down the temperature of the stove that harbored the pot in which tea was brewing, and then tossing the toasts on the plate, put a bar of butter on the side. Her dupatta was discarded on one of the chairs that rounded the small table in the kitchen while her forehead was ornamented with beads of sweat, her hair pulled back in a chaste bun, a few tendrils dangling from it, dancing to the mellifluous timbre of the birds' whimsical coos outside to the dawn

Once everything was ready and the tray was set, Ayat hoisted it up with a taut grip and headed toward the living room where Sabeen was fumbled up in a couch. As she sat the tray on the coffee table, Sabeen bolted an old coca cola bottle filled with water she had just sanctified to protect her niece from the dangers this world held.

"Khala, you know, you don't always have to do that," Ayat said as she flashed the plate on the table in front of Sabeen. "I always recite Ayat-Alkursi when outside."

"But it doesn't hurt to take some extra precautions," tugging the dupatta lose down her chin, Sabeen chirped and Ayat smiled.

Then a long silence ensued as Sabeen watched her daughter setting the table meticulously. Just how much she had grown during this last year. No one deserves to go through what she did. No one deserves to have a fate like she had. No one deserves to consume the amount of pain she was. And no one deserves to smother it in inside, letting it eat at them without telling anyone like she was.

But it doesn't take much time for the winds to shift. They say time heals wound, however, in reality, time only teaches us the art to live with it. But sometimes bad things happen to teach you the value of the good happenings when they finally arrive, to give you the reason to gripe them tenaciously with as much power as you can summon so that you never let go of them and devour them whole-heartedly.

"Alright khala, I know I'm beautiful. No need to stare like that. It's creepy you know," cutting the boiled egg from the middle, Ayat teased Sabeen, yanking her out of her reverie.

Ignoring the witty remark, Sabeen sighed heavily. "Ayat bacha, what have you thought."

"Thought about what?" Ayat asked with a quizzical look as she poured the steaming tea in the cup.

"About your future, of course," she divulged as she inspected Ayat putting the cup in front of her and forwarding to fill the other one for herself.

"You already know, khala. Earning oodles of money to build an NGO, you know, just the usual," she replied nonchalantly with a bit of humor.

"I'm not talking about their future. I'm talking about yours."

Ayat faltered as she inspected the steam oozing out of her cup, slithering upwards, and finally vanishing in to nothingness akin to her dreams. Not that she was pessimistic or anything, but one thing she had adopted to always act upon was to never conjure up imaginations in her head as they beguile you into quixotic cosmos, away from stringent reality life has to offer. Being an exuberant girl she once was, she always had a wider range of imaginations but the journey of becoming an introvert cost her almost everything and now she wasn't stupid enough to walk on it again.

"Their future is my future," tucking the lose stand from across her face behind her ear, she answered.

Sabeen's face scrunched into expressions indicating her inability to understand Ayat's philosophy as she slanted her head a bit, and finally drawing a deep breath, retorted. "You're almost 25 and I think now is the right time for you to mull over the matter you have been avoiding for quite a long time."

She knew what Sabeen was referring to and so feeling slackened, in her attempt to shun the question, she unintentionally took a sip of the tea only to make a face as the scalding liquid made contact with her suddenly dry tongue.