It was a bright day of summer. The sun was on its full display. The heated breeze was swaying around causing everyone's sweat glands to hyperfunction. The bird on the trees were chirping and the animals on the land were panting due to the hot temperature. Yet the kids playing in the thin street didn't have any trouble with their sweaty bodies and immense warmth.

  They were running, laughing, squealing, and shouting at each other. Everything was fine until one of the children knocked his bat harshly on the ground and hit the even younger kid acting as an umpire. The latter also slapped the former and both started crying.

  There was havoc going on here when the dark brown gate on the far left opened and everyone turned silent noticing the person who came out. The kids knew that in front of this individual, they were nothing.

  She was a petite girl wearing a knee knee-length yellow floral shirt and white loose trousers. A yellow dupatta was wrapped around her neck. Her hair was tied nicely in a bun with the bangs on her forehead making her look cute and innocent. But every child here was aware of the fact that what was seen was a deception. She was the total opposite of what she used to show.

  She was literally scowling at them with features so soft and sweet. Wasn't it too contrary?

  The girl stood a few steps away from them and placed her hand on her hip. "What's going on? Why there is so much noise? I was sleeping but you guys were so loud."

  "Api, we were playing but these two started fighting," a thin, lean kid who seemed older than all of the children here spoke. He inferred she would be able to sort out everything as she always did. She mostly acted as a referee in such conditions for them.

  She raised a brow and regarded the two culprits; one still crying and the other wiping tears off his red face. "Why?"

  "He hit me first. He slapped me on my ear," the kid who acted as Empire mumbled.

  "He is lying. He started it first. He wrongly gave me out. He is always with Team Blue," the batsman kid snapped back.

  "No, you are lying. I am neutral," the other kid also wasn't letting his walls down.

  "Neutral, my foot!" The batsman again ran to hit but the girl acted first and interrupted him.

  "Stop this. Umer, you tell me what exactly happened?" She turned towards the guy who was the captain of Team Red.

  "Okay so after hearing from both sides, I have decided that Azam wasn't out on that ball and Mustafa will throw that ball again," she concluded, rubbing her hands together.

  As Umar said, Mustafa tossed a no-ball earlier and the majority of Team Blue and Team Red players agreed to this, so that was her final verdict.

  "Now, no fighting boys. And after this game, all of you go back to your homes." She raised a finger in their direction. All of them nodded in sync. They were impressed by her judgment, heroism, and intelligence.

  "Ajwa Api is great!" She heard one of the kids shouting this on her way back to her home and a corner of her lip rose in a smirk.

  She flipped her hand in the air towards the boys impishly. She had always been like this. So upright and vocal about goodness. She couldn't see wrong and unfair. Her skin felt like gashing and her veins filled with rage whenever she saw anyone being irrational. She was outspoken and bold; a trait due to which she was often labeled as arrogant and a brat by elders.

  As Ajwa entered her house, she groaned finding her father's car on the porch. Meant he was back. Another period of humiliation, dispute, and arguments.

  __________________________

  He stood beside the window of his office with a cup of warm coffee in his hand. From here, he could see the fascinating and beautiful greenery of the countryside. A smile stuck on his lips. He always found this verdure soothing to his eyes and having a calm effect on his heart. Part of the reason why he loved to work in a rural place. He admired the people here since his late mother belonged here. Besides, he anyhow found his heart linked with farm life. Everything about it was serene.

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  "So Mr. Faris, when are you giving us good news?" His friend, Kamran inquired with a small smirk.

  Faris gritted his brows in confusion and regarded him. "What good news?"

  "You are twenty-seven now. A well-established doctor and a handsome guy so when are you going to marry, my dear friend?" He chuckled.

  Faris sighed. "If you have to talk such crap, then it's better to leave now."

  "Till when you are going to mourn what she did? Think about your life again," Kamran now said with a serious expression.

  "I hate her. Don't mention her in front of me furthermore," he shouted with a clenched jaw.

  He was a very cool and gentle person but whenever she was mentioned, he lost his calm.

  "Okay but think about yourself again, Faris. I also want to be called uncle as my children call you." He laughed. "Besides even your brother has a years old fiance. You should get married before him since you are one minute older than him."

  Faris smiled at this. His beloved twin. For whom he could sacrifice his life.

  "Dr. Faris, there is an emergency case of crush injury and bleeding from the leg due to a car accident," a nurse quickly said.

  Faris straightened his back. "Fine. Prepare everything. Resuscitate him. Give him supportive therapy. I am coming."

  He rushed out of his office and reached the corridor of his hospital. There was hustle and bustle everywhere. A crying man approached him.

  "Doctor, please save my son... I beg you...," he was pleading while holding his hands in his erring ones.

  Faris placed a reassuring hand on his shoulder. "We will try our best. You should pray."

  After that, he left for the changing room and came out a while later in an OT kit. His grey eyes twinkled with courage, empathy, and scrutiny. A green mask was covering his face. He gave off competent vibes.

  It took seven hours for them but it worked since he was able to save the young man. He had a skill but top most, therapy in his hands that every denizen of Ghizer Village used to come to him whenever their health ditched them. But Faris knew it was all due to Allah SWT and after HIM, his late mother's prayers helped him be so capable.

  Since the guy got hit by an erratic racing car, it soon became a police case. But Faris didn't intervene in it and let the cops do their work. When he came back into his room, he found so many missed calls from his father. He gritted his teeth together in anger. He hated him. He hated the man who hurt his mother. That was also one of the reasons he came here; in peace of Ghizer Village. He couldn't bear the old man and his second wife who became a killer of his mother's happiness.

  Faris after graduating from medical university, left straight for Ireland for his specialization and three years ago, when he came back to Pakistan, he opted for the countryside where her mother initially belonged than the city which was so full of hatred, contempt, and schemes. He loved the people here. Before he came, the health condition of this place was so awful. The community never used to go to the city when they fell sick because it was costly. But here Faris sometimes gave free treatment as well.

  His phone again rang and this time, he couldn't ignore it. He had vowed to his mother that he would never hate his father no matter what. He would give him respect as he deserved. And he couldn't break that promise. He could never hurt his amazing mother who gave so many sacrifices for him and Faraan.

  "I have been calling you for so long. Where were you?" Burak Kirmani complained as soon as he got the indication that his call was received.

  "I was busy."

  "Oh...How are you?" Mr. Kirmani's lips puckered at this expressionless and taut answer.

  "Why did you call?" He again remained the same formal as before. Like he wasn't talking to his father, but a client.

  "When are you planning to come to the city?" He asked another question.

  Whatever it was, he couldn't hate his beloved son. He and Faraan were his heirs and his right and left arms.

  "Not any soon. I do have work here," he said, sounding more irritated than ever.

  He visited the city six months ago that too only because of Faraan's request. He just entered his house only due to his twin brother and little sister otherwise he despised every resident of that mansion.

  "I was thinking about Faraan's marriage. His fiance's parents want to hurry so I wanted to meet them and specify a proper date for his nikkah. I would like it if you accompany me as well."

  Mr. Kirmani first wanted Faris to marry. He was still elder than Faraan and even he acted like one. Besides, he was worried about him. He was so rigid and he had lain low his life from his own family lest the whole world. He was very emotional when he was young. Totally opposite to Faraan who was jolly and cheerful. He sometimes couldn't believe they were twins. Aside from similar faces and overall figures, nothing matched their personality. One was south and the other was west. Burak's one mistake affected his son so much that he started being so mysterious and private.

  Faris shoved his hand in his pants pocket and looked at the palm tree standing gracefully outside. There were only a few people whom he loved the most in this world; his mother, Faraan, Fiza, and his best friend Kamran. There was also someone else on this list a few years back but now he loathed that person with all his might.

  "I will come for Faraan's sake. When do we have to go?" He solely made this about his twin, killing any little happy hope in his father's heart with this as well.

  "I am thinking about this weekend," Mr. Kirmani replied.

  Faris nodded. "Alright, I'll be there. I am disconnecting. I have OPD in a while."

  Burak looked at his phone's screen in remorse. He had lost his beloved son on the same day, Faris lost his mother. He just wanted to find any way so that he would clear the misunderstandings he had made about him and his second wife.

  ______________________

  Ajwa's feet came to a halt in the lounge when she heard her father's loud voice. Was it even something new now? It was a usual happening in their house.

  "Don't you know how to cook? It's been twenty-five years but you are as lazy as before," he yelled at the top of his lungs. Khalid Yaqoob was sitting at the dining table like a king who just knew to order his subordinates.

  "I...I tasted the gravy to check for salt but...but I found it normal." It was Ajwa's mother's weak voice.

  "So I am lying? How dare you?" He stood up from the chair and dashed in her direction. "You silly woman! Now you will talk back to me?" He raised his hand towards her face but before it could reach Ayesha, Ajwa held his hand.

  And now the radar of his blood-red eyes was on Ajwa; spilling daggers at her but she didn't fear burning.

  She wanted to save the burned ones by scorching herself.