Yusha

It was pitch black; so dark that one would feel as though he or she was visually impaired. I stood stock-still, waiting. Then the clouds began to cleave overhead, revealing a gargantuan moon which gleamed an eerie orange.

I sprinted along the high hedges flanking him which casted long shadows. My heart drummed and sweat dribbled down my forehead and neck. Every now and then, I paused briefly only to decide which route to take. But, no matter which path I happened to choose, it always led back to the hangman's noose at the very heart of the hawthorn labyrinth. I time began to run out as, gradually, the moonlight receded while the clouds started to weave back. Darkness reinstated and, once again, I just couldn't escape.

I jerk awake and sit up on my bed. Inside my chest, my heart thumps forcefully, as though I've actually run like in my dream, and I drag in lungful of air to calm it down.

I chug down water from the bottle on my nightstand. The 3D LED wall clock displays 4:36 AM. Knowing from experience that I'll not be able to fall asleep after the dream, that has been plaguing me for years, I shuffle out of my room.

In the living room, I find Zayan and Shayan, who stayed over at my place last night to, quote, 'spend more time with me', unquote, as they'll be returning home tonight after finishing their business here, unfurling a big mat.

"Hey, we were just about call you." Zayan says.

"Why?"

"Why do you think? To pray with us, of course." Shayan answers in a duh-tone. "It's Fajr time. Isn't that why you're up?"

Fajr.

When was the last time I prayed Fajr?

Scratch that. When was the last time I prayed at all?

People know I'm a Muslim. But I'm a hypocrite at best.

"Wait a bit. I'll go wash up and be back."

Zayan leads the prayer and, after finishing, we go to my gym room. I occupy the treadmill, Zayan takes the bench press, and Shayan chooses the Lat pull-down machine.

"When's your flight again?" I ask, a few minutes later.

"6:15." The twins reply in unison.

"Let's grab dinner somewhere." I say. "I'll drop you guys off at the airport afterwards."

"Ooh, sounds good! I'll let Inara know." Shayan says.

"You don't have to see us off. We'll hail a cab." Zayan says. "You don't like public places."

"I wouldn't have offered if I wasn't okay with it."

An hour and a half later, Zayan and I sit in my kitchen after having showered and dressed for work.

"Where's Shayan?" I ask, while placing coffee mugs on the white, marble-top isle.

"Obsessing over his hair." Zayan replies, impaling a piece of kiwi from the fruit platter with his fork. After a silent moment, he says, "This is random, but, do you still see a therapist?"

I am about to pop a raspberry into my mouth, but stop short. "Why do you ask?"

"Oh you know, just wondering if you still have sleep disorder."

"It comes and goes. Same stuff every time, so I'm not bothering with a therapist anymore."

"I see."

The conversation curtails as Shayan comes and plops down on the stool next to me.

"What did I miss?"

"Nothing." Zayan and I say simultaneously, and Shayan scowls before dragging the fruit platter towards himself.

<>

Vance notifies me that I have woman visitor.

"I told her you don't meet anyone who doesn't have an appointment." He says. "But then she showed me your card..."

The door to the waiting room opens and Maha emerges.

"Oh." She says, when she notices me.

"Oh." I say back.

"I was just about to leave."

I lead her to my office.

"I was out for a walk and thought I'd stop by." Maha explains. "I guess I should've called beforehand."

"That's all right. Have a seat."

"So, I did some thinking." She says, plunging to the point. "I remember some stuff, but I'm not sure if it'll help."

"Any information is welcome."

"Before I get to that, however, I want to know who else is involved. In your investigation, I mean."

"That," I sit upright, running my tongue over my bottom lip, "I'm afraid, is confidential."

"So, there are others."

"Yes."

"Others who knew Yamira and Wissam?" Maha weaves her fingers together and looks at me sharply. "Lemme guess. Rayman Kaify?"

"Like I said, it's confidential." I say, impassively.

"Fine. Thank you for your time, Mr. Zaber." Maha gets up from her seat.

"Hold on. This is harsh. You're asking me to go against my contract."

"Harsh?" Maha repeats softly. "Oh, I don't know about that. I just gave you a chance to fess up. Too bad, you decided not to take it."

"Wait." I stand up, perplexed. "Fess up?"

"The envelope my brother received, the one with your company's name, and had my family photos with Wissam in them, it was your doing." Maha stares at me stonily. "You lied."

I watch Maha leave, too stunned to speak.

<>

At 3:15 in the afternoon, I clock out from work and drive to downtown, where I'm scheduled to meet my cousins at a hotel.

As I step into the buffet hall, I'm already jaded by it's unoriginal interior design, cliché background music, and swanky diners.

A server walks me to a private dining space with a single table that can easily sit six people. Zayan and Shayan are already there.

"Inara hasn't arrived?" I ask.

"She called to say she might run a bit late. She's doing some final checking of the party she's organizing." Shayan says, and takes a big sip from the drink in front of him.

"A wedding or birthday?"

"She didn't say."

"Speaking of party," Zayan says, "The opening ceremony of our first ever resort is at the end of this September. You should come."

"I'll try." I say, half-heartedly.

_______________

Maha

My little effort at dressing up ends with a black scarf, a beige kaftan top tucked into a long, black skirt, and black, ankle strap wedges.

I clomp down the stairs and find Pop tugging at the collar of his navy-blue button down. He has a pair of khaki trousers and brown, leather loafers on.

"Ready to go?" He asks.

"Yeah."

My paternal cousin, Emad, has graduated university and has official returned home from London. His doting parents, my Uncle Ikram and Aunt Nabiha, have decided to throw a welcome back party for him.

From there, Pop and I'll go to pick up Mom and Kaif from the airport. Their plain is supposed to land this evening at six.

"Should we buy fruits or sweets as gift?" Pop asks, as we get into his Volvo.

"Don't know." I say, as I strap my seatbelt. "I bet others would bring a ton of those."

"Hmm. What do think Emad would like?"

"How should I know? We haven't been in touch for, like, ages."

"But you used to be close as kids."

I scoff. "If by close you mean we were sparring partners."

The car ride the rest of the way is so quiet that my mind goes back to the conversation I had with Kaif last night.

"Hey. Assalamu Alaikum."

"Walaikum Assalam."

"So, uh, how's is going over there?"

"Good. Everyone's good here, Alhamdulillah."

"Alhamdulillah. Good to know."

"Listen, we need to talk." we both said together. Then chuckled.

"You go first." I told him. "Mine's gonna take a while."

"Same." Kaif replied. "Is it, perhaps, about..."

"The photos?"

"Yeah."

"Hmm."

"I did some research. I think I get the gist of it." Kaif said.

"The gist?"

"Of what happened. To Wissam." he said quietly. "Sorry for acting the way I did. It had nothing to do with the photos. I had something else going on at the time."

"No worries." I said, relieved. "So, um, research? How'd you do that?"

"An article came alongside the photos. It spoke about the incident. It all seemed too deliberate, like someone wanted me to know about this. I sought out the person who slipped the envelope into my school locker, and tracked down the guy who gave the envelope to him." Kaif paused for a moment. "He was Wissam's classmate. He's a professor now. And he's teaching in your university."

"What?" There is only one person who fits that description perfectly.

Afterward, it didn't take long for me to surmise the situation.

Half an hour later, Pop and I are riding the elevator to the top floor of the apartment building where my Uncle and Aunt live. Once we step off the elevator, we saunter up a short flight of stairs and into the roof, where the party is being hosted.

I take in the decoration. Fake ivies are hanging overhead, tangled in strings of fairy lights. Potted plants line the rooftop perimeter. Long, wooden tables have been set up. Someone had hauled a mini refrigerator and stocked it with soft drinks. A table next to it has been laid buffet style, with chafing dishes, piles of white plates, glasses, cutlery and even tissues.

Just as expected. Emad's parents have always been extra.

"You're here." Uncle Ikram strides towards us. "Assalamu Alaikum!"

"Walaikum Assalam." Pop and I reply, smiling at him.

"Wait," Emad's father glances around and then frowns, "Why don't I see Amal and your son?"

"They'll be arriving from Turkey in a few hours. Amal's mother got sick suddenly so she went to see her. Kaif went with her." Pop explains.

"Ah, that's too bad. Emad! Look who's here!" Uncle Ikram says suddenly, ushering a square-jawed guy with a 5 o'clock shadow beard.

Hold on. That's... Emad?

My cousin comes and stands next to his father and greets us with Salam.

"Wow, Emad. Masha Allah, you're looking good. Seems like London treated you well." Pop says, after shaking his hand.

"Alhamdulillah." Emad replies modestly, smiling politely.

"Maha, you're in your last year of university, am I right?" Uncle Ikram asks.

At the mention of my name, Emad's eyes widen a fraction.

"Uh, yes." I say.

"She'll be graduating around the end of this year, In Sha Allah." Pop says.

"Good, good. Now that Emad's here, if you need any study related assistance, feel free to contact him. I'm sure he'll be glad to help." Uncle Ikram tells me, clapping his son on the back.

Emad stares down at his feet, looking embarrassed.

Not knowing how to respond, I merely smile.

"All right then, we'll leave you two to catch up." With that, Emad's father and mine walk off together.

"Ah, sorry about that." Emad says, scratching the back of his head.

"You mean, I can't ask for your assistance?" I ask, faking disappointment.

"No! That's not-"

"Chill. I'm only kidding." I chuckle.

"I actually didn't recognize you from over there." he says. "You look different." Then adds with a little smirk, "You've gotten taller."

I roll my eyes. "Why is everyone saying that? I was never too short."

"Who else said that?"

"Yush-" I stop short. "Uh, never mind." I scowl inwardly. Why did I have to remember him now?

"Okayyy." Emad drawls. Then adds a little wistfully, "Sad I can no longer call you my little brother."

When we were little, Emad would tell everyone that I'm his little brother since I looked like a boy with my bob cut hair and my refusal to wear girly clothes. We used to even brawl like brothers.

"You still remember that?"

"Of course." Emad grins. "Those were good days."

Emad looks behind me. "Hold on a sec." He tells me. "Inara! Looking for something?"

A young woman in a smart, sky blue pantsuit strides over to us.

"I think I misplaced my phone here somewhere. It's not it my purse." The woman says, her accent British even though she doesn't look like one.

"Should I call your number?" Emad asks.

Miss British Accent nods.

Seconds later, a ringtone plays and Miss British Accent pulls out her phone from the inner pocket of her blazer. She grins sheepishly at Emad. "Oh, it was right here. Sorry."

"No worries." Emad says, and then looks at me. "Oh, Maha. This is Inara. She was a senior at my university. Graduated two years ago. Now, she runs her own event organizing agency. She organized this one as well."

I make an impressed face. "Nice to meet you."

"Likewise." Inara says with a smile as we shake hands. "I noticed you two from over there. You guys look cute together."

"You think?" Emad says, at the same time as I say, "We're just cousins."

I quirk an eyebrow at Emad clears his throat.

"Why don't you stay for a bit?" Emad says to Inara, clearly trying to change the topic.

"Thanks. But I've got plans with my own cousins." Inara checks her phone. "And I'm running late."

After Inara leaves, Emad holds out his phone to me. "Give me your number. Since I'm officially back, we should hangout while we can and also catch up on everything about each other, before I become busy with a job."

I take his phone and type in my number. "I doubt we'll be able to hangout. Things are pretty hectic as it is, with this being my final year and all."

"Too bad. You'll still have to make time for your favorite cousin." Emad playfully winks at me.

I show him my fist and his hands instantly jerk up in surrender.

It's then that I realize talking to him is easy, as though we've never lost touch.

As more guests trickle into the rooftop, Emad has to excuse himself from me.

At 5: 25, Pop and I exchange our parting Salaams and drive to the airport. Traffic is surprisingly less for a weekend, and we arrive roughly eight minutes before six.

"I'll be back from the restroom." I tell Pop.

When I exit the restroom and start back to the waiting area, someone exclaims. Zayan.

"Hey, isn't that your friend?" Zayan says, nudging a guy in a mask and baseball cap who is with them.

Grey eyes meet mine and delate a fraction.

Zayan drags Yusha over to me, grinning. "What a surprise! You remember me, right? Zayan?"

"Uh, yes." I answer, a tad bit awkwardly. "What a coincidence."

"You're....?"

"Maha Ayat."

"Right!" Zayan snaps his fingers.

Someone comes and joins the boys.

"Whatcha doing?" he asks them, and then turns to me. I blink. I look from him to Zayan. They look identical.

"Miss Ayat, this is Shayan. My twin brother."

"Hey, I know you from somewhere." Shayan says, squinting at me. A look of recognition passes his face, and he grins. "The marshmallow dreamer!"

Zayan and Yusha looks at Shayan like he's crazy.

"At your lecture, Yusha!" Shayan explains. He looks back at me. "It was you, right?"

"Ah..." I feign confusion.

"Don't mind him." Zayan says. "We're returning home." He says, smiling amicably. Then he looks at Yusha with arched eyebrows. "Wait. Did you know she'd be here? Is that why to insisted on seeing us off?"

"No." Yusha answers, his unwavering gaze on me. "I had no idea."