Light at the end of the tunnel.

CW: abuse

“Please, please, pick up already!” I said as I tried to get through to my sister who was not answering her phone. I briskly walked out of my office trying to find a private place to talk to her, pushing past my colleagues. Striding out of the office building I heard a distant siren of an ambulance, wondering about the one ambulance that was at this very moment taking my sister to a hospital on the other side of the country. After a few rings, the call went through and I heard my sister’s brittle voice which was not as I had remembered it to be; it used to be rather fruity. 

“Hello, you.” She said.

I hadn’t spoken to my sister for some time but on this occasion I just had to call her.

“Hello, you.” I replied, “I heard what happened.”

“Oh, that.. I suppose you’ve called me to say ‘I told you so.’”

 “No, I haven’t. Just wanted to know if you’re okay.”

“Well, as you can hear, I am alive.” She paused. “Barely.” Her voice was getting croakier the more she spoke, as if it was a strain on her to just get a few words out.

“That’s good to hear. I’ll be there soon.”

“You will?” She asked. 

“Yes, I will. Tonight, I’ll catch a flight as soon as I ca-”

“There is no need; I have the kids here with me and the last thing I need is to be lectured by you about what I should and shouldn’t have done.” She responded, unpleasantly.

“I only want to-” Before I could complete what I wanted to say, she hung the phone up on my face. This enraged me; how dare she play the victim of an incident she herself had been responsible for. I stomped back into my office building, towards my room and looked up to see Ahmed, a friend and colleague, outside my door. He smiled, politely.

“Well, you look like you’ve just been driven over or worse, talked to your sister!” He joked.

“I knew I shouldn’t have called her. She always finds a way to blame other people for her own shortcomings. All I was trying to do was to check up on her after she got into a fight with Hassan.” The thought worrying me again.

“Oh, that Hassan. What happened?” Ahmed asked.

“She found out he wasn’t being sincere and with whom and it all turned out as I had warned her it would and I am not sure if she is mad about her husband betraying her or my suspicions turning out to be true. I got a call from her neighbors that they had heard shouting and the sound of glass shattering from their home and a few minutes later, an ambulance had shown up outside to take Hina to the hospital.”

“I’m sorry for her.” He apologized.

We both fell silent, looking down at our feet.

“I really think you should go see her. Whatever it is, she is still your sister and she needs you right now.” He spoke, breaking the silence.

“But the impertinence in her voice is so startling at a time like this.”

“Hasn’t she always had trouble with asking for help? You should know that. She overlooked Hassan’s mistakes before, she’ll do it again. So, you need to go and knock some sense into her.” 

That was true. My sister’s husband liked eye-candy and was easily distracted by wealth and went wherever he felt he had a chance, all the while betraying his wife and making no attempt to hide it. They had been together for three years now and problems started emerging immediately after a year. I had to stop her before he did something worse to her.

Night fell and after cleaning my apartment I packed my bags to catch my flight from Islamabad to Karachi where my sister had moved after getting married. I boarded my flight at 8 PM and was in Karachi 4 hours and 25 minutes later. 

The hustle and bustle of this city and it’s bright, blinding lights never failed to make me feel super anxious. I never liked attention and the way this city shone, it asked for nothing less. I called a careem and gave the address of my sister’s house to the captain. It was late but I was so used to travelling alone at these hours from living alone that it had taught me well enough how to look after myself. Half an hour later, the careem pulled into my sister’s driveway. I nervously got out of the car and removed my luggage, wondering if I will be welcomed inside. I paid the driver who left soon after and walked up to the front door. I rang the doorbell twice.

Two minutes later, the door opened and a familiar face popped out, Hammad. Hina’s eldest son and my beloved nephew.

“Khala!” He exclaimed, excitedly and pulled me into a tight, desperate hug.

“Look at you! All grown up. I can’t believe it’s been so long. You’re taller than me now! Masha ‘Allah.” I said.

He pulled away and smiled at me. 

“I’m so glad you’re here, Khala. Everything will be okay now.”

All I could do was smile weakly at him, not knowing whether my presence here would make things okay or make them worse.

He grabbed my luggage and ushered me inside, down through the hallway and into the lounge. The house looked, surprisingly, neat. No sign of a quarrel or shattered things. However, the aura was dark and gloomy and it hung around the walls like a ghost; shadows from the corners seemed as if they would swallow you whole. 

“Everyone else is asleep. I was up working on a college assignment but if you need anything to eat, I’ll try and fix something up.” Hammad said, politely.

“I’m fine, thank you. Where’s Hina? Is she okay?” I asked.

“Mama is well. The doctors gave her a strong sedative. It was awful.” Hammad looked down, trying not to remember what happened. 

I was not sure where she had been hurt because Hina would not talk to me and was anxious to know the seriousness of her injury. 

“And your father? Where is he?” I asked.

“In police custody” Hammad responded, embarrassment resounding in his voice.

He showed me to the guest room and set all my luggage down; wishing me a good night. However, I had quite the opposite of a good night as my recurring nightmares made it impossible. The same that I had been having for a few years now; a bright flash of light, followed by a deafening crash and a faraway scream. After which I sat bolt upright, drenched in sweat and breathing heavily. Putting my hand over the throbbing pain in the back of my head. I checked the time, 5 AM. Pushing away the blanket, I stood up, grabbing the headboard for support. It was time to pray Fajr. Having faith really helped overcome many fears including these nightmares that I could not completely understand. All I was told at a young age was that both my parents had passed away in a car crash and the only survivors were me and my sister, miraculously. So, I believed, what I saw was probably what we had gone through at the time of the crash. 

The sun rose and gradually, the streets started filling with the noise of vendors and people passing by. I tied back the curtains and slid open the window; in came fresh air carrying the laughter and shouts of children playing outside. I walked out of my room and into the lounge where my niece and nephew were sitting and the maid was serving them breakfast. She greeted me and asked what I’d like; Two pieces of toast with one simple omelette. 

“Asalam U Alaikum, Khala!” My niece, Haniya, got up and hugged me.

“Walaikum Asalam, beautiful. How are you?” I asked, smiling.

“I’m fine.” She lied.

I could see the small cut on her forehead that was still too red to be too old. 

“What’s this?” I asked. “How did you hurt yourself?” 

“Oh, this..” she spoke, putting a hand on her scar. “Collateral damage.” She passed a pale smile.

As I comprehended her words, I realized what she meant and my ears fumed. 

“The bastard..” I said, under my breath. 

“Haniyyaaaa…” 

A voice came from inside a room on the right side of the lounge. 

“Jee, mama, I’m coming.” Haniya called back. 

“No, sit down.” I told her, politely. “I’ll go see what she wants.” 

Giving both the children a smile, I walked towards Hina’s room and opened the slightly ajar door. Moving forward into the room, I saw my sister lying on her bed with a bandage wrapped around her face.

“Hina?” I gasped.

“Zara?” she asked. “Is that you?” 

I went to her bedside. 

“Did he…?” I could not contain the shock in my voice. “What did he do to you?” I cried out.

“I’m sorry about how I talked to you on the phone. I was in a lot of pain at the time.” She said.

“What happened, Hina? Can you, please, tell me now?” I urged her.

My question met with silence. Then finally..

“Aneeqa.” She spoke. “I know I never believed you when you warned me that summer she came to spend the holiday. How could I have suspicions about my childhood best friend? But I was wrong to have blamed you for being jealous of her. That lying, treacherous….” Her voice trailed off as she choked back tears.

“He had always been abusive verbally.” She continued. I had always overlooked that for the sake of the children. But now, this time, for her, he broke the vase you gifted me that very summer. I slipped on it face first and injured my nose and they had to surgically repair parts of my face. The neighbors heard the noise and called the ambulance and the police and after an investigation, they took Hassan away and put him behind bars.” 

I grabbed her hand and squeezed it. 

“He hurt Haniya, too, in the process.” I told her.

“I’m not going to let him go this time. This time, I am going to sue him for the damages he has caused. You will leave him and you will keep the children, Hina. Enough is enough.” 

“I can’t leave him, Zara. Not so easily. He’s the father of my children and I love him. I don’t expect you to understand that, you’ve always had trouble in that department.” She said. 

Her words surprised me. Even at a time like this, my sister refused to let her taunts go. 

“Can you, for once, not be so ignorant!?” I yelled. “Ever since mama and baba died all I’ve had was you and you-”

She interrupted me.

“Ever since they died, I had to look after you even when our Khala took us in. You had the margin to be careless and joke around but I had to be a mother at 14 years old and try to keep you safe. Then, I was the one to be destined with an unfaithful husband and to have my house broken with two children and no parents to return to!” She proclaimed. 

Startled by her confession, I just stared at her. No lie in there that she had to go through a lot of trouble in keeping both herself and me safe from our perverted Khaalu. Even after, all of that, she could not find peace in her married life, either. 

“I’m sorry for everything, Hina. For cutting you off. But you have to fight this case with me. I will not leave you at Hassan’s mercy again.” 

Although, she had disagreed verbally; However, inside I knew she wished to get away from this prison. I understood the silent agreement between us. 

The next 5 months flew by fighting for justice for my sister and her children. Running to and from the court every day, providing evidence of Hassan’s infidelity. All the while working from home. Eventually, the court ruled out in Hina’s favor; custody of the children was given to her and Hassan had to pay for the damages he had caused with a restraining order put against him. The last day of court, I walked out along with Hina, a new gleam in her eyes from finally being free from the impenetrable trap she was in and from the toxic relation she had been stuck in for so long that it almost felt impossible to get out of it. For the trauma she had experienced, therapy was suggested to her and her children and they went through with it which gave a good result. 

“I’m so happy for you. You can finally live a better, healthier life now.” I rejoiced over my sister’s triumph. 

“Yeah…” She replied, unsurely. 

“What’s wrong?” I looked at her.

“How will we get by?” She asked, heaving her shoulders. 

“Have faith, Hina. It wasn’t Hassan who was helping you, it was Allah. And He will continue to look after you even if Hassan is not there. You’re not alone. I’m always just a phone call away. So, don’t worry.” I assured her.

She smiled, faintly.

A year later, after Hammad was done with intermediate and Haniya had completed 8th grade and had to get into O levels, I convinced my sister to move to Islamabad where she could work and the children could get admission into a good school and university. We shared the apartment I lived in and we both worked to pay the rent. Over this period of time, Hassan tried many times to get through to Hina because his mistress had ghosted him soon after the court order but she refused to respond. It was clear that Hassan was after what Hina inherited after our father’s death. 

Hina was recovering, so were the children. Ahmed came with his wife and children which was a lot of fun. Life was so much better and we, finally, had a better and brighter future to look forward to.