Mullah’s daughter and depression

The house was spotlessly clean. Aneesa’s mother had laid out her best china on the small table in the sitting room. The kitchen was full of the warm smell of onion bhaji and samosas. Aneesa’s sister had put the  gulab jamans in a silver tray in neat little patterns.. Aneesa was on the roof  staring out into the  street  through narrow slits in the wall.  Another week same  drill . Making tea and savories for yet another family coming to ‘’see’’ Aneesa. It was always the same. The boring matchmaking game. Aneesa  had rejected the prospective  groom in her mind already. She hated all those strange looking men the ‘’Rishta’’ aunty was hooking in for large sums of money . She was hoping eventually her mother and father would get tired and abandon this lost cause and go on to looking for grooms for her younger  sister Sadia. Aneesa wanted freedom happiness and romance outside the claustrophobic walls of her house. Not more of the same with another boring  orthodox family.  She had found her own secret world of romance in the Urdu version of  Mills and Boons romantic stories where the hero was always tall dark and handsome and the heroine always a shy budding beauty of remarkable talents. The hero was always madly in love with the heroine and never put a foot wrong. He would leave all his worldly chores and office duties at the heroines one command and send her secret love messages and texts and pictures of hearts and roses. That was the hero she was waiting for. The one she could share all her dark deep secrets with , who would white wash all the dismal grey spaces in her life and  would love her regardless of her average features.  She smiled to herself and a shiver went down her spine as her imaginary tall dark and handsome hero put his arms around her. She hid the Urdu mills and boon quickly as she heard someone coming

Sadia was shuffling up the stairs looking all red and puffy in the face from all the cooking and cleaning she had to do since morning. ‘’Ami is calling you downstairs ,  those people have arrived’’ she looked at her older sister up and down ‘’ why haven’t you changed yet, Ami will be so angry’’ she complained wiping the sweat off her brow. Aneesa went down slowly covering herself properly. They were a very orthodox family and the prospective bridegroom was never allowed to see her – only she could see him through the slits of the silk curtains opening into the sitting room. The mother and sisters of the prospective groom got up to hug her as she came in. She had seven brothers , the older three doing well in business , all seven still unmarried. Both combinations  attracted  many families to her home. Until they found out that both Aneesa and Sadia had never been to school and had been home schooled by their mother in very basic Islamic education rudimentary Maths and Urdu. Enough to read Urdu version of mills and boons but nothing more than that. That put a lot of people off and the forced smiles and small talk ended with the drinking of tea and savories. There were plenty of forced smiles but the family never came back. Some however had young daughters of their own and were hoping to catch one of her brothers and  thought ‘’ she doesn’t look very old , we can send her to school ourselves’’ . Aneesa tried hard to feel attracted to this stranger she could see faintly through the curtains.  Mostly they looked  uncomfortable and nervous. No one looked like her tall dark and handsome hero who would understand all her thoughts and feelings in one glance.Mainly she felt nothing just emptiness. This is not how her new life was supposed to start. He was supposed to be there for her not for her brother’s ‘money or his own sisters ‘’rishta’’. ”So what do you think” the mum asked. Aneesa made a face and went back to the roof to her secret world of mills and boon.

The father Nizam who spent most of his time in a room on the first floor smoking a Hookah was getting annoyed with the endless waste of time and money and at Aneesa’s refusal to make a practical decision. The eldest sister Zeenat  suffered from asthma and stayed mostly in the room on the top of the house out of sight of others either reading the Quran or sewing clothes as a hobby to fill in the long tedious hours of day time. She would have to stay in bed several days whenever she got an asthma attack and so her parents had given up on the idea of getting her married as her health wouldn’t allow her to perform house hold duties. Zeenat specially kept away when the ‘’rishta’’ aunty was around .  Today she came downstairs after hearing the row in the sitting room.  The  dad was shouting at Aneesa to make up her mind quickly or he would make it for her. Zeenat had huge dark circles under her eyes from her illness and her skin looked pale and shrivelled. She held Aneesa’s hand and took her upstairs to her own room , out of line of fire of the dad’s wrath. Aneesa’s mum and sister started clearing the table slowly a look of resignation and sorrow in their eyes. In Aneesa’s household women were never allowed to speak up or have an opinion. Never allowed to leave the house even for shopping. The brothers did it for them. Men were always in control and had the ultimate say. Right now Aneesa’s behavior was being seen as a mild form of rebellion. Who knew better than Zeenat , in this family rebellion had  painful consequences and no one stood up for females – not even the mother who doted on all her sons and always gave them VIP treatment.

The row went on and on all evening with the father blaming the mum and her family for all his problems. The maternal uncle Ali lived across the street and  was generally disliked by her family. The uncle was clean shaven had allowed his wife to work – sent all his children to posh English medium schools. Ali’s oldest daughter Memoona nearly ten was still running around streets playing with her brother and his friends. Aneesa had to cover herself at the age of six and couldn’t even go out to the front porch ever since. The dark rooms of the house were the only habitat the three sisters had known and going on the roof was the biggest freedom they ever got. They were never allowed near the wall that looked out on the street unless it was dark and no one could see them. The dad usually blamed uncle Ali for most problems in the world and was now calling the uncle a ‘kafir’ and ‘mulhid’ a disgrace to society and Islam and the root cause of all the reasons why Aneesa’s family was dysfunctional – why the girls couldn’t find proper grooms and why the boys all hated coming home and spent the best part of the day out doors with or without proper reason. The younger two sons spent long periods of time hanging around the uncle’s house and Nizam hated that. Aneesa’s mum never answered Nizam back ,even the idea was like committing a sin. She spent most of her day light hours in the kitchen cooking for the family of 13 children. She had barely finished breakfast when it was time for lunch. Between saying her five time prayer and teaching the girls some Maths and Urdu – it was usually past midnight when her chores were over and it was time for bed.

Aneesa’s mother could smell the tobacco and hear the faint gurgling sound of the Hookah as she stood in the dark courtyard trying to gear up enough courage to go and talk to her husband. Blaming the mum’s  family and brother for all his problems was normal for Nizam and the anger she had to bear for this was uncomfortable. She knew Nizam’s attitude was hurting her children but she didn’t have the courage to stand up to Nizam. She warmed up some  milk and went up to Nizam’s room  placing the cup gently on the side table.  She spoke softly ‘’ Don’t be angry with Aneesa , she is just a child , I will talk to her tomorrow‘’ Nizam said nothing and just glared at his wife. ‘’ Why don’t we start looking for wives for our older sons ‘’she said ‘’ other girls in the house will help our daughters situation, don’t you think’’ she sat not looking at Nizam but facing the door instead. That way she could avoid his angry glares that usually sent her heart racing and gave her chest constrictions that felt very uncomfortable. Nizam said nothing and kept puffing at the Hookah in anger. The house was silent  Zeenat was coughing in her upstairs room and a few dogs howling on the street were making a big racket.

Days changed to weeks months and years and still nothing changed in Aneesa’s house hold. The three sisters were still unmarried. The sons were wifeless and Nizam sat most of the day and night puffing at  his Hookah and Aneesa’s mum seemed wedded to the kitchen hardly having time for anything else.

Then one evening Aneesa too had a severe asthma attack. She was gasping for air and going pale and sweaty in the face. Nizam came down but refused to take her to a doctor saying ‘’ Allah is punishing Aneesa for her rebellion against Islam , serves her right ‘’ The mum ran to her brother’s house and soon all three of them were on their way to the doctor. Uncle Ali took Aneesa to his house on the way home and he looked with sadness at the anti- depressants and anti- anxiety pills that the doctor had prescribed apart from the medicine for asthma. Aneesa’s mum was crying softly sniffling into her Burqah every now and then. ‘’ I will talk to your husband ‘’ Ali said with concern ‘’ You don’t have to be a doctor to figure out what is causing depression, anxiety and illness to these girls’’ Aneesa’s mum continued sniffling ‘’ there’s no point brother, that man’s heart has turned stone cold’’ she wiped her eyes with the side of her dupatta. ‘’ He has been angry for the last 30 years ever since we came to Pakistan’’ Ali told Aneesa to lie down on the Sofa bed and make herself comfortable. Soon the younger cousins came trooping in and started talking and playing with Aneesa. ‘’ Aneesa Appi look I have made you a Get well card  ‘’ the young boy said. Aneesa laughed at the crooked cartoon drawing and the color slowly returned to her cheeks. Ali was looking on helplessly unable to help his sister’s family . ‘’ But what exactly is Nizam’s problem’’ he asked ‘’tell me what I can do’’ Aneesa’s mother sighed heavily ‘’ Nizam is angry for having to leave his business and home in Delhi behind, he blames you for it, so he is always taking it out on me and the children.’’ Aneesa’s mum brought the woes of her life to her lips with great difficulty. Ali rolled his eyes in disbelief ‘’That was three decades ago’’ he said pouring out a cold drink for the children and Aneesa. ‘’Why cant he get over it ?What is he waiting for’’? Aneesa’s mum looked at the ice bobbing in the cold drink and felt just as helpless , floating in circumstances beyond her control ‘ ‘’Waiting to take revenge on us that’s what he is waiting for ,so forget about the girls’’ she said ‘’ he won’t even let the boys get married, he doesn’t want any normalcy in that house, while he is still miserable’’ Ali moved away from the children and went out on the porch. The sun was bright filtering through the dark green leaves of the grape vine and Deodar trees. Bees were humming around the heavily loaded rose bushes ‘’Ali was in deep thought’’ he realized there was a deeper problem here than his niece’s apparent depression and frequent asthma attacks. He decided to investigate and brought the girls over most evenings to have dinner with his family. He was pleased to note that the older two girls asthma attacks were becoming much less frequent and the younger girl had stopped her binge eating. They almost looked like normal healthy girls enjoying time with their cousins.

Aneesa’s mother felt relieved with the situation and decided to start on her quest for finding prospective grooms again. she was sure if Aneesa and Sadia left the depressing atmosphere of her home the quality of their lives would improve immensely. She asked her older daughter Zeenat to convince her younger siblings to accept whoever would still be willing to take them as wives. Zeenat decided to try her luck with Aneesa. They were curled up on the bed having a heart to heart. Finally Zeenat brought up the impending ‘’rishta’’ situation. Aneesa looked away as tears rolled down her cheeks like heavy rain. At last she said between heavy sobs ‘’ You know I can’t get married for the same reason you couldn’t when you started getting asthma attacks’’ Zeenat sat up and looked at Aneesa carefully – she got up and paced up and down the room a couple of times . A dark shadow appeared in her eyes and her breathing became labored as if she was going towards another asthma attack. She drank some water , opened the window to get in more air and held Aneesa’s hand ‘’ Why are you afraid, your Asthma is very mild compared to mine’’ she said stroking Aneesa’s hair softly ‘’ But the reason for the asthma is the same’’ Aneesa said her eyes blazing with suppressed anger and hostility. Zeenat gasped and was taken aback. Now it was her turn to cry tears like rain. Aneesa wiped her sister’s tears with her hand ‘’ It’s OK I already know it isn’t your fault” Zeenat closed her eyes in agony Aneesa said in a tense whisper ”I saw you take dinner to burey bhaijan Zahoor’s  room many times, most times I was still awake  when you came out at dawn before others woke up’’ Zeenat leaned against the wall like a dead person  and stared at her sister with gaunt hollow eyes ‘’ Did he …….’’ she said pointing to Aneesa not having the courage to form the words. ‘’ No Aneesa’’ said ‘’ it was chotey bhaijan Wahid’’ Zeenat hugged her sister like she was a small hurt child ‘’ why didn’t you tell me, I thought my sacrifice would keep my sisters safe ……’’ she sat up  with a jerk ‘’ Do you think Sadia ………’’ she left the words hanging ‘’ I don’t know, I didn’t have the courage to ask her that would have killed me ‘’ Zeenat got up pacing up and down the room trying to focus her thoughts ‘’ We have to tell someone’’ she said at last ‘’ No point in telling Ami ‘’ Aneesa said ‘’ she will kill all of us rather than hear a bad word about her darling sons or even Abba’’ it was getting dark outside but neither sister felt like turning the light on, too afraid to see the despair, shame and guilt on the other’s face. ‘’ Then let us tell Uncle Ali, at least  that will save Sadia’’

Uncle Ali heard the whole story – went into the store where his late brothers war time rifle was stored at the bottom of the big steel duvet box. He loaded it with some old bullets and marched up to his sister’s house. Aneesa’s mother saw her brother rushing towards her house like a raging bull rifle in hand. She ran and bolted the front door. Uncle Ali banged at the door furiously. Uncle Ali’s wife ran after him and pleaded with him to come back home and not do something rash in anger. The neighbors came out to see what the racket was about and Uncle Ali went back home to avoid a scene. He wrote a long letter to his sister and threw it into her house through the post box. He paced up and down his front yard waiting for a response to his letter all night. No response came in the next twelve hours until late at night next day there was fierce banging at Uncle Ali’s door. Nizam along with his brother, his three young nephews and his own five or six sons invaded Uncles Ali’s home but refused to come in or sit down. They stood at the foot of the inner entrance and threatened to kill and beat up Uncle Ali for the false rumors lies and allegations against Nizam’s older sons. Uncle Ali stood his ground and threatened to report the whole matter to the police. Uncle Ali’s wife ran to get Col Shujat their next door neighbor and Uncle Ali’s childhood friend. He came brandishing his service pistol and dispersed the whole crowd with some aerial shooting.

Soon after that Nizam took his entire family to a different city, all communication channels with Uncle Ali were shut down and no one knew what happened to Nizam’s family for a long time.

Many summers later Uncle Ali  Nizam and his wife all passed away. Nizam’s sons all emigrated to USA  and were dotted around California, Florida and New York. The older two daughters died  at a young age and the youngest sister was married to a much older widower with several grown up children from the first wife.

All of Nizam’s sons and nephews had done extra ordinarily well at business and were leading comfortable lives, even dabbling into US politics and some married to American white women. All cousins and brothers would get together at special occasions and discuss business details over endless glasses of whisky and loaded tables of kebab. Everything was perfect in the Nizam house hold except for a few glitches. Most of Nizams sons and their children suffered from eating disorders. A couple were in therapy and had found out that it had something to do with their dad issues of hostility against father and anger at a passive mother who let the dad get away with his abusive behaviour towards the sons. But what none ever mentioned out loud and that stayed like a heavy burden around their neck was the feeling of shame that had accompanied their exit from Pakistan. Two of the younger Nizam sons had been convicted in Pakistan one for fraud and forgery and another for embezzling official funds. The glamour the glitz the big money that always surrounded the Nizam family always felt barbed and flawed for these moral low points hanging over them from way back. So it suited the sons and nephews of the Nizam family to surround themselves with people whose main loyalty was to money and people were never judged on good or bad character. Still the glossing over of their lives through artificial means disturbed Zahoor the oldest Nizam son occasionally.

Until he had a brainwave while strolling along the boulevard with his wife and teenage children. He had just watched a movie where revenge becomes the ultimate passion in the hero’s life. That hit a cord with Zahoor, the  theme of revenge had long been indoctrinated into his psyche by his angry embittered father who had never adjusted to moving away from his home in India. He just never figured out until now how to take revenge from Uncle Ali’s family, clear his own family’s name and put all the blame for all his misdeeds onto them. 

Memoona Uncle Ali’s only daughter often visited NY with her husband Zawar, a business tycoon running a hotel chain with a lot of influence among the local community. Zahoor spent the next few days weeks figuring out how best to approach Zawar. He decided to go incognito and approach the catering firm that supplied food to most of Zawar’s hotels through a third party. They were paid a lot of money to cancel their contract with Zawar and Zahoor’s own catering firm got in easily. Zahoor felt a deep sense of satisfaction after a long time, destroying the remains of uncle Ali’s family would now be really easy. .He sat in his pent house office looking at the picture of his late father on his office wall. He wondered why he kept it there. The man clearly hated him and he was never sure what he felt for him – fear and respect? Or just fear nothing more!! Images of the last time he had been in Uncle Ali’s home when Memoona was just a child flashed across his mind. The darkness of that evening, allegations, anger, yelling and shouting. Being banished from his father’s house. His face went dark at the memory, the trauma of that evening had lived long in his soul. Now it was pay back time. He had hated and envied Memoona as long as he could remember. ‘’The little princess born with a silver spoon, loved by everyone around her, what did she know what emotional pain and suppression was ? What did she know what it was like to live with your worst enemy under the same roof? ”His own father Nizam. Who tried to break him and humiliate him and his brothers all his life. All the bitterness welled up in Zahoor’s throat. He got up and removed Nizam’s photo frame from the wall. A pang of guilt and fear ran through him as if he had done something wrong and Nizam was still there watching him. He shoved the frame in the last drawer of the cupboard behind the giant mirrors on the wall. He looked at his reflection as if for the first time. The port belly all the weight , the look of anger on the face. All this got so much worse whenever he saw Memoona face to face. She always touched a painful cord in him just by being there. He always seemed to go down in size and feel six inches tall. All the hatred, the shallow empty spaces of his soul would come to the surface. He would feel like a broken toy that someone had trampled upon. None of the billions he now owned took this feeling away. Now he would make that feeling go away whatever it took. He got on the phone and asked his secretary to get a list of all of Zawar’s friends and business partners.

Memoona had flown back to Lahore in a huff after having several rows with Zawar in NY. She got up the next morning with a splitting headache, dark circles under her eyes from crying the night before. She looked at her mobile, her son had called her from university several times and there was a message from her daughter but nothing from Zawar. She just didn’t know what to tell her children. She didn’t even know why Zawar was behaving the way he was. She knew he was having business problems. Some complaints had been received about the food standards in his hotels and the food authority had shut down several of them. How was this her fault? She fiddled around the chest of drawers looking for some headache pills. The next several days felt like a nightmare. Zawar contacted her through a lawyer and wanted possession of the house back and refused to talk to her or answer any of her calls. She was sure this was more than business problems, Zawar was acting as if she had done something terrible to destroy his entire life. It was almost as if hurting her and seeing her in pain was giving him satisfaction. What had she done to make him so angry? This was the same man who would call her during business meetings just to hear her voice. ‘’ Why do you act like such a baby – where am I going? I will still be here when you return back to Lahore’’ she would laugh at him. ‘’ My meetings go much better when I talk to you, you are my good luck charm’’ he would say with a big smile. Memoona loved it when she could see Zawar’s white pearly teeth and the twinkle in his eyes on the mobile screen. Now the mobile was silent only her children were giving her missed calls. ‘’Asking her to leave the house that was going a bit too far.’’ Depression and sadness was giving way to anger and she decided to wait until Zawar felt normal and  told her what was wrong. She didn’t have to wait for long. She got a letter from Zawar’s solicitor cutting her out of most of the company’s shares and asking her to sign a letter giving Zawar permission for a second marriage in NY. For several weeks she couldn’t believe what had happened to her. Both her children were in NY for Zawar’s new wedding and were not answering her calls. She spent the next few months in her friend’s house unable to move around or figure out why her world had crashed around her? When the fever left her after several months of being in bed, she felt like a shadow of who she used to be. Her beautiful hazel eyes were dark with pain. All color had left her rosy cheeks. Most importantly it was the change in her broken heart and embittered soul that was the most horrifying. She felt she was never going to trust or love another human being ever again. That anger gave her the will to fight back for her life again. ‘’No man is worth destroying my life like this’’ she thought ‘’ I haven’t done anything wrong,why am I the one suffering’’?

The years of pain and loneliness slowly subsided in Memoona’s life. She learned to live by shutting out her feelings and keeping the hurt away by doing a lot of charity  work, working for war orphans and displaced families. They were her family now. Her children came to see her once or twice a year but a curtain had come between them. She felt like the bad guy in their lives . She could see how they struggled to be polite and not have a go at her for causing massive problems in their lives just by being there. She recognised that mental and emotional attitude from somewhere – she just couldn’t remember clearly where from or when. That attitude of shutting yourself out and blaming everything on some outside factor or person. She figured out that piece of the puzzle in a painful way. Marian her friend’s charity where Memoona worked and lived was to be shut down as complaints about mistreatment of the orphans had been received by several authorities. Marian was devasted and decided to go back to Malta her home country and leave Lahore for good. That was when the penny dropped. Someone was behind shutting down and destroying everything that brought normalcy to Memoona’s life. Then she remembered the pattern from her childhood – this had to be her cousins from NY and Florida and not Zawar and his new wife as she had suspected so far. Both her brothers had died in mysterious circumstances and she slowly remembered a similar hounding of both her parents before they died.

Zawar felt like a broken soul most days when he got up to go to his office for work. His head hurt , his shoulders ached a perpetual sadness seemed to sit in and around his chest. His long hours of work were his only friends now. He had stopped looking at people for love or companionship a long time ago. What did it matter anyway. All positivity and normalcy had left his life the day he thought Memoona had played him for the fool and betrayed him and his trust. His ego his manhood the love in his heart everything had shattered. ‘’wasn’t I good enough for her ‘’ he had thought over and over again until the thought bore a dark deep hole in his spirit that would never be filled. Memoona had not only broken his heart she had left him bankrupt and he would probably be on the streets of NY if Zahoor hadn’t come to his help. Zahoor had vouched for food safety in all of Zawar’s  hotels through his powerful connections with NY mayor and senators and helped him to cover the losses and slowly get back on his feet. Zawar had been moderately happy after his second marriage and bringing the children over to NY but the hole in his soul never filled up. Every time the anger in his soul welled up , the need to run away from himself  became an obsession. When he felt like that he would get on a plane  and make needless business trips all over the world setting up new hotel chains in country after country. His evenings were spent with beautiful young women whose names he couldn’t remember when he got up in bed with them the next morning.

He had a meeting with Zahoor and his brothers that morning. They were thinking of taking over a super store chain in SE Asia and merge it with the small one’s they owned. They wanted to know if Zawar was interested in becoming a partner. They would all travel to Taiwan to finalize the deal. ‘’ The food and the sex is incredible. You have no idea what those Taiwanese beauties are like’’ Zahoor had said winking at him.

The trip to Taiwan didn’t go as planned. The Taiwanese played hard ball  and wanted more money for the merger than Zahoor’s company was willing to pay. Zahoor was a bit annoyed and irritated and dragged Zawar to the hotel bar. He was completely drunk by midnight and talking all kinds of nonsense  embarrassing Zawar who had considerable difficulty in dragging Zahoor through the  lobby back to the   hotel room. Zahoor started singing loudly as Zawar tried to tuck him into bed and was soon fast asleep.  Just then his mobile started ringing . Zawar answered thinking it might be important. Zahoor’s brother from Lahore was at the other end ‘’ Delete all the pictures you sent to Zawar ‘’ he was saying ‘’ Memoona is going round to our relatives houses trying to find out why Zawar doesn’t talk to her and how you  business partner..’’ Zawar made some incoherent noises on the mobile and switched it off. He didn’t want Zahoor’s brother to figure out he had spoken to. . Zawar went back to his room quietly and went through Zahoor’s mobile.

He couldn’t remember how long he had been walking and drifting on roads and streets of Taipei. His shirt was smelling his hair was flying all over and his red eyes over his unshaven face made him look like a monster as he looked at himself in the rear view mirror of the cab. Twenty years of his life had been eaten up by a lie. ‘’ So Memoona didn’t betray me sleeping with other men , this was all a trap to end my relationship’’ He felt like the worst fool ever. He was married now to a woman he didn’t love, most nights he had random one night stands with women whose names he couldn’t remember  and he hadn’t spoken a civil word to his children for several years.  What kind of a loser had he become ‘’

Zahoor took his children and went back to Lahore putting a  divorce settlement for his second wife in the post and allowing her to keep his flat in NY. His heart was pounding as he rang the bell of Memoona’s small house in a Lahore Suburb. ‘’ What does she look like now,’’ he wondered ‘’ I haven’t seen her for years and years’’ He rang the bell again but no response came. He went round the back to peer through the windows. The house seemed quite and Zawar was  disappointed. Now that he was finally ready to see her why wasn’t she there. Memoona had seen Zawar’s car pulling up in the drive – even before she saw him she knew from her heartbeat who was at the door. There was only one man who made her heart beat like that. She turned off the light and pretended not to be home. He rand the bell a third time. Tears were rolling down Memoona’s face. This was too much to handle, there was too much pain and hurt between them. She looked at the wreck of her body and soul in the window pane. ‘’ Bauhat der kurdi Zawar’’(You left it too long). ‘’At least I saw him once again, My spirit will be at peace now’’ she thought as she got into the cab for her flight to Malta. She stopped in the way to hand over the keys of her home to Sadia who had been widowed being thrown out by her grown up children and abandoned by her rich brothers in NY. ‘’ Come with me to Malta ‘’ Memoona said to her ‘’ together we will find a reason to live again’’  Sadia smiled mysteriously  and said.‘’ You already have a reason to live again ‘’ Memoona watched in disbelief as her children and Zawar came trooping out of the front door. ‘’ I told them you were coming ‘’ Sadia said with a glint in her eye.

Memoona couldn’t see clearly for the tears in her eyes. Her heart was hurting, she felt like she was going to faint but the pull of the earth and the out stretched  arms of her family told her she was going to miss her flight to Malta after all.