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It was a warm afternoon in the village. Rabiya and Bano were sitting at the bench in front of the lake, looking over the water. The afternoon breeze carried the scent of jasmine across the lake, stirring the branches of the trees.
This had always been Bano's spot. The place she had found herself during every big or small occurrence in her life: where she and Sarbuland had professed their love so many times, where they had snuck off in the evenings to have secret conversations away from the rest of the family, where he had come to reassure her of his love when she had feared that she would lose him to Rabiya.
It was also where, after months of agonizing over the decision, she had finally decided to let him go.
Strange, now, for her to be sharing this spot with the woman she'd once feared would take her childhood love away from her. What was even stranger, was that it no longer felt strange at all.
The tea Bano had poured for them had long since gone lukewarm.
Rabiya wrapped both hands around the porcelain cup, letting the fading warmth seep into her palms as she watched the trees sway in the wind. She had grown accustomed to the serenity of the spot over the past few months. Her curls fluttered in the breeze.
"I can see why this is your favourite place," she said, looking over the lake.
Bano smiled. "It's really peaceful, isn't it? And the water’s so beautiful? I always come here when I need to think.
"I’m really grateful that you shared all this with me the last few months. I know I was…” Rabiya trailed off. “I can never thank you enough."
Across from her, Bano looked up in surprise. "For what?"
Rabiya gestured vaguely towards the house behind them, its stone walls glowing softly beneath the late afternoon sun.
"For everything. Getting me out of bed everyday. Bringing me food. Taking me on walks. Introducing me to everyone."
She tilts her head to her cup. "Even the tea."
A small smile found its way onto her face, though it carried more gratitude than happiness. "Just... for making sure I wasn't alone. I don't think I would've survived those first few weeks without you."
Bano smiled gently, looking at her own cup. She turned it slightly between her fingers before answering.
"Honestly... at first I only did it because Sarbuland asked me to."
She let out a quiet laugh, shaking her head at the memory.
"I was still angry with him then."
Rabiya's smile deepened. "I remember."
"But then I got to know you."
The words lingered between them as the breeze drifted across the lake once more.
"I realised you weren't just someone he'd brought into the house." Bano's eyes drifted to the water. "You were someone who had really lost everything."
Rabiya winced at that, remembering how painful the first few days after Mudassir's death had felt.
"So it stopped being because of Sarbuland.” Bano shrugged, like it embarrassed her to say. “You needed someone, that’s all.”
Rabiya felt an overwhelming sense of gratitude fill her chest. She reached over and lay her hand over Bano's. "Thank you, Sherbano."
Bano shook her head, waving her free hand as if to dismiss the conversation. "Don't embarrass me. You'll make me sound kinder than I am."
"You are."
"I just brought you breakfast."
"You also stayed until I ate it."
Despite herself, a reluctant smile escaped Bano, and Rabiya smiled back in response.
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They sat for a while without talking. Rabiya watched the ripples spread and fade across the surface of the lake.
"Do you miss him?"
Bano didn't ask who she meant. "Every day."
The answer came so naturally that it almost surprised her.
"I don't regret it though... I loved him. I think I always will." She chuckled sadly. "The strange thing is... I don't actually wish we were still together."
Rabiya turned towards her. “You don’t?”
"I just..." Bano searched for the words. "I hope someone reminds him to eat."
This surprises a laugh out of Rabiya. "That's what you worry about?"
"He gets so preoccupied with the village's problems. If someone doesn't put food in front of him, he'll only realise at ten o'clock that he hasn't eaten since breakfast.”
Bano sighs. “And yet he makes sure everyone in the village gets three square meals a day."
Rabiya smiled and nodded, thinking of the day Sarbuland had first brought her to the haveli and had insisted that she eat. "That sounds like him."
Bano's gaze drifted across the lake.
After they had separated, he spent most days out in the lands: settling disputes, looking over the farms and mines, handling problems with the village infrastructure.
By the time he returned home at the end of the day– sometimes two or three days– exhaustion clung to him like dust.
It hadn't always been that way. Once, he would steal afternoons just to sit beneath the trees or on the swing with her, laughing over nothing and making plans with her to escape and start afresh in some city. But the village had needed him more with each passing day, and somewhere along the way she had begun to feel that there was less and less of him left for her.
She didn't want to ask him to choose between her and his promise to Sherdil Lala; she knew his word was worth more to him than his life.
She had tried once, thinking she could convince him to leave it all behind if she begged him enough. That was the first time he had ever raised his voice at her.
The hardest part wasn't losing him. It was accepting that the Sarbuland she knew– the carefree young boy who had once dreamed of running away with her– would never return. And she had to stop wishing he would.
So she had been the one to leave.
After a while, Rabiya asked quietly,
"Can I ask you something?"
"Mhm?"
"Now that you and Sarbuland are..." She hesitated. "...why do you still come here?"
Bano looked back towards the mansion, a fond smile spreading across her face. "Because... this is still home. Bijaan raised me here. I’ve spent more time in these walls than even Sarbuland has."
Rabiya nodded, understanding, letting the quiet sit for a moment before she said, more carefully than she meant to,
"I guess it’s time I go back to my home too."
Something in Bano's face changed before she'd finished the sentence. "Why?"
Rabiya shrugged, not quite looking at her. "Tayyab called. They’re moving back to our village. I could go back… run the cafe again.” She twisted the end of her dupatta around her fingers. “I can't stay in someone else's home forever. "
Bano was quiet long enough that Rabiya glanced over. When she finally spoke, her voice had lost its ease. “This is your home too, though.”
Rabiya blinked. "What?"
Bano looked at her then, with the faintest hint of colour in her cheeks.
"I mean, Bijaan adores you… Umardaraz would be heartbroken if he could never have your chicken karahi again. And… ” She looked down at her tea, her voice softening. "And... I'd miss you. If you left."
Rabiya smiled. "So... I'm part of the family?"
Bano looked up. There was no hesitation this time. "You have been for a while."