It seems I either only have really long stories or really short stories. This came to me last night. Was originally meant to be a oneshot but my pesky brain thought it would be a good idea to add a cliffhanger. EE, eat your heart out!

I'm going to post as much as possible now otherwise I won't do it, hench the shoddy seperation of chapters.

There will be 3 chapters to this and then it will be done.

Mostly Zainab centered.

Please R+R! I'm a bit worried about characterisation.

One of the blessings of losing everything, Zainab surmised, was the liberation of having nothing left to lose. An objective observer would look at her life and think she was fortunate – and she was, she thanked Allah for all of it- but deep within the recesses of her heart, Zainab was lost. She wouldn't admit it to anyone, most of the time she would not even admit it to herself, but there were these rare moments in between sleep and wakefulness where for a split second, Zainab could see. She could see that her marriage to Masood had irrevocably changed. It was different, overly cautious, as if they were both feeling their way through it, as opposed to the way they leapt over those crevices and obstacles in their marriage, hand in hand, as they had before. She could see that the family business was getting on quite well without her input and that hurt. She needed to be needed. She could see that Tamwar would no longer allow himself to be guided by her. It pained her to admit it but she saw it when she looked into his eyes- he was a man now. She saw that in his stance, in the way he stood up to her and Masood about-

And Kamil. Her beautiful, darling Kamil that would be the beacon of shining light guiding her and Masood to shore. Kamil that would make everything better, Kamil that would, even if it killed her, come out right. Kamil, that it hurt to hold sometimes- not because she saw so much of him in the youngster, no, not because of that, but because she hadn't wanted him. She had actually wanted to do what so many others of her faith had done and been derided for until their dying days. Everytime she held him, she sent out a silent plea of apology, a plea she silently knew he'd understand.

Him. The son who could never do anything wrong. Who had always held his family- her- in such high regard. It gave Zainab a stabbing pain in her heart only a mother would know, when she thought of him. Many moons ago, Carol had said things that hurt her deeply. She couldn't understand. No-one could. Not until they had been betrayed. Betrayed. That word didn't seem to ring true anymore. Not really.

Had Sy- he betrayed her? Yes, the voice in Zainab's head replied. He'd betrayed her with every smile he bestowed on that man who had so cruelly snatched her son away from her, betrayed her with every laugh he wasn't sharing with his family...

But- Zainab's heart cried, a traitor Zainab desperately tried to shove down. How real had his laughs been with the family? She couldn't remember the last time, towards the end, Syed- there, she had said it- had smiled a genuine smile that hadn't turned into a grimace, or laughed a laugh that hadn't been shrouded in pain. She pretended she hadn't seen. Had ignored the way he stared into the distance, in a reverie so deep, no-one could pull him out of, lost in a distant world of... Zainab shuddered to think of it. He wasn't her son anymore. She didn't know anything about him. All those horrible gay things that man had made him do... brainwashed him into thinking was ok. She wanted no part of it.

She had seen them. Walking in the square. Talking, laughing. The tender glances they gave each other, the little touches they shared. It was sick. Or it would be, if she could not see herself and Masood countless years earlier, doing the same thing in secret- suffering the shame afterwards.

Why was her mind thinking of shame? She really needed to get more sleep, she could no longer use the excuse of Kamil for her sleepless nights, for he had settled down at nights now. There were absolutely no similarities between herself and Masood and her... those two men. No similarities.

But then... her heart refused to be locked away tonight. Zainab closed her eyes in pain, she would need to find another way to keep that pesky thing under wraps. Then, why would Syed risk everything. His reputation, his family, his beautiful wife for what? A fling? Sex? And Syed- so hesitant to go back to his mother, in the way Zainab had been so certain he would, once he realised the error of his ways. The force of the thought hit her with all the weight of a 100 tonne truck. He wouldn't be coming back. Birthdays... Christmases, Ramadans, all of them flashed before her eyes. She would be without her firstborn for all those years. And when she was old, and close to death, he would not be there. What was it all for?

It had been 6 months. Zainab could hardly believe it. 6 months living with an elephant in the room, the silence when Tamwar even dared to breathe his name. 6 months, waiting for the door to ring and for it to be her son, the eternal wanderer, with his bags and the burden of his apology weighing him down. Waiting to hear those golden words, that wouldn't quite make everything right, but would begin to darn that gaping great hole in the footbridge between mother and son mutual understanding. 'Mum, I'm sorry.'

They never came. Zainab felt wronged,still, even now, 6 months down the line. What had she done to deserve this? Everything she'd done was meant in the best possible way. She felt her thoughts become increasingly bitter. She was only trying to protect him from the force of people's reactions, the extent of which she knew all too well. Hadn't she been through it? Did she not have the scars to prove it? She had suffered for her love. She did not want her son to suffer in the same way for something less than love. But here she was, 6 months since her son had left to live with him, 6 months since she'd had to pretend they didn't live 5 minutes away from each other and she was still waiting.

Except the backlash to Syed's misdemeanour, hadn't been as strong as she'd first thought. The families that ignored them, were families Zainab hadn't been so keen on anyway. Bushra was still a friend to the family,albeit, a competitive one. Parveen certainly hadn't seemed to care, Bushra had shared, in shocked delight at her daughter's sense of 'adventurousness', that Parveen, now back from the US and working for a huge law firm, upon hearing of the 'scandal' had sought Syed out and spoken to him several times on the telephone and had even made plans to meet Christian. Bushra had hastened to add that she did not condone such behaviour but, wrinkling, her nose, had said her daughter was impossibly headstong. Zainab knew deep down the only reason the Abassi family and the others were still in contact with her was because they had publically disowned him. But Bushra, seemed to actually care about Syed. She had asked if he was happy many times and Zainab had had to answer that she didn't know to Bushra's disappointed 'oh's.

Zainab had finally realised, there would be no fire set on Syed's home. They weren't in Pakistan anymore. Whether that was good or bad was immaterial, they simply weren't in Pakistan.

She couldn't understand her son and that man. What they didn't- or did- have. But she could try. Couldn't she?

The moan of the phone interrupted the perfect silence of the night. Masood mumbled sleepily. He would be of no use. Zainab grabbed her robe and shuffled to the phone. She felt older than she was. Grabbing the receiver before it could let another ring out, Zainab answered, her voice croaky with sleep. 'Hello?'

'Zainab?'

It was him. She'd know that voice anywhere. He sounded- what? Upset. Like he'd been crying. Those gays, they always made a big deal out of everything...

Her entire world collapsed in the next second as she heard his next words.

'Syed's been rushed to hospital. '

It had been 3 days since Zainab had got the panicked call from Christian. She had not yet found the courage to go and see her son for fear of what she'd find. She had hurriedly whispered the news to Tamwar when the morning came after the phone call. He had been just as panicked as the man and had given his mother an exasperated look that said nothing but 'What are you still doing here? Go!' She was certain her son would definitely go, and indeed, had heard Tamwar say he had to 'sort out uni stuff' and knew he had been to see his brother. Of course, they both knew, if she really wanted to stop Tamwar from seeing Syed she, not Masood, only had to say it was forbidden. But for some reason, unbeknownst to her, she didn't.

After Tamwar came back, he gave his mother a significant look and, when his father was out of the room- for he'd expressively forbid anyone to see Syed- he had passed on the news that Syed had suffered a ruptured appendix and was recuperating, which meant Zainab didn't find it serious enough to break her enforced ban. But here she was 2 days later and Syed was still recuperating. She had to see him, if only to tell him she'd have nothing further to do with him. Nothing he didn't already know, of course, but it wouldn't hurt for him to have it reiterated in the face of his illness.

So she'd left Kamil with Tamwar, told Masood she was going shopping in Oxford Street and had set out.

She arrived at the address Tamwar gave her, both bemused and impressed. It appeared Christian had moved Syed to another, a private hospital the day after the operation. You definitely knew this place was private the second you walked in as it was more like a home than a hospital, there were no white walls in sight and a pleasant smell of apple and cloves pervaded the air instead of a cloying disinfectant smell. She looked at her crumpled piece of paper, he was in room number 6. Here she was. She could hear laughter. She knocked on the door, feeling strangely nervous. 'Come in.' That was he- the man- how dare he tell her whether she could enter her own son's room... pushing aside her feelings of anger, she opened the door.

'Aunty Zainab.'

That woman in front of her could not be the dowdy Parveen. She was dressed elegantly, in a pencil skirt and fitted blazer, her hair was curled... and perhaps the most surprising thing of all, she was wearing makeup.

She smiled distractedly, as she looked past Parveen to see her son. He was asleep in the softest looking king sized bed, looking very small and younger than usual. His hair was falling into his eyes. She put out a hand to move it away. Christian pushed it back, casually; not seeing the momentous will it took for Zainab to even touch her son.

'Zainab.' Christian said, evenly.

She started to nod to him but turned her head towards Parveen at the last minute. She did not see the look that passed between Parveen and Christian.

'Aunty Zainab. So good to see you.' Parveen said, as she regarded Zainab coolly. 'I was just leaving so I'd better-' She motioned to the door.

'Bye, Christian.' She turned to Christian and gave him a beaming, genuine smile. He smiled back. Zainab turned away awkwardly. 'Come 'ere.' She heard Christian say. Zainab couldn't resist looking to see what was happening now, and what she saw shocked her. They were hugging each other.

'Don't be a stranger, ok Parveen? Sy was so pleased to hear from you.'

'You two, 'A glance at Zainab- ', really do make a lovely couple. Don't worry, I'll see you very soon Christian! I plan to actually beat you at Travel Scrabble!' She turned to Zainab, 'Can you believe he beat me 3 times in a row?' She smiled at Christian proudly. 'Turns out he's not as stupid as he looks.'

'Oi!' Another tight squeeze. 'I'm insulted.'

'Yeah, yeah.' She patted Christian on the back and stepped away. 'See you.'

'See ya.'

'And tell Syed-'

'-I will.'

Zainab felt like she'd stepped into the Twilight Zone. First Syed being in a private hospital, and now this. What next? Nadim doing ballet?

Parveen nodded at Zainab and walked towards the door. Zainab all but ran to her, clutching at anything to avoid being left with that man. 'Parveen, it's been so long. Let's go out for lunch.' Parveen considered her, looking like she wanted nothing less than to go for lunch with her. 'Ok.' She said, with the most apathetic tone she'd heard in a while. Zainab made a mental note to tell Bushra about the impudence of her daughter. 'I can only spare 10 minutes though, I'm sorry, I've just got so much on at the firm.' Was it Zainab, or did she hear a spot of exaggeration in her voice?

They left the room, Zainab chattering wildly about anything she could think of and Parveen becoming more and more silent and withdrawn as they left the hospital grounds.

'This is fine.' Parveen gestured at a small cafe a couple of streets away from the hospital. Zainab grabbed a seat on one of the outside chairs. Parveen looked at her in surprise. 'Thought you didn't like sitting outside in cafes?'

'This is fine.' Zainab said, trying to hide the pain in her voice and wondering if they disinfected the table.

'What would you like? It's my treat.' Zainab pushed the menu towards Parveen.

'Thanks Aunty but I'll just have a coffee, I haven't got time.'

'No, no. A coffee? No wonder you're so thin if you don't eat anything. Men like women with healthy curves, girl.'

Parveen looked at Zainab almost coldly. 'Then it's a good thing I'm concentrating on my career, isn't it?'

They sat in silence. Stalemate.

'I don't know what he's told you-' Zainab started.

'If by he, you mean Christian, then he told me enough. Enough for me, frankly, to be surprised that you visited. What swung it for you? The curiosity? I saw the look on your face-'

'Don't talk to me like that!' Zainab felt herself getting angry.

Parveen continued, her eyes widening sarcastically. 'You were actually surprised, weren't you. That they could afford a private hospital. Why? Did you not think a gay couple could actually be successful-'

'Don't say that?'

'What, couple? You don't like that, do you? My mother thinks more of your son than you do! They're not even related, not really.'

Zainab stared at this beautiful strong woman, a woman she no longer knew and burst into tears.

Parveen hailed a waiter and ordered her coffee and asked for him to bring tissues. He stared at Zainab like she had sprouted another head and hurried off to get the tissues.

He placed them on the table then all but ran away.

Parveen passed Zainab a tissue. 'Look, I'm sorry.'

Zainab blew her nose. 'Nothing else to be said.' She got up to leave. Parveen stopped her with a warm hand.

'I'm bringing my personal stuff into it. I really am sorry, Aunty.'

Zainab sat down. 'What?' She said groggily. 'What personal stuff?'

'Oh, of course, you don't know.' Parveen laughed bitterly. 'Abdim.'

Zainab felt herself tense without knowing why. Parveen continued, 'My brother.'

She took a deep breath and proceeded to tell Zainab the story. 'I'd always known something was different with Abdim, the same way, actually, I noticed Syed was hiding something when you and Mum tried to set us up. Abdim was my big brother, he was my hero. Anyway, I can't remember how, but someone found out he was having a relationship with his best friend. His best male friend. I was pretty young at the time, I didn't understand why Mum and Dad were shouting at each other everyday, why no-one wanted to know us anymore... I only saw what it did to my brother. He'd promised Mum and Dad he'd try as hard as he could to please them. Only, it didn't work. He'd stayed away from all men, only left the house to go to Mosque- he was forbidden to go anywhere else- but he became a shell. He wasn't my smart, brave, funny brother anymore. He wasn't...' Her voice broke. 'Sorry. He wasn't anything. He'd managed to live like that for years. He confided in me when I turned 16. Told me how sorry he was for bringing shame on the family. When I told him I didn't care a whit about shame and that I only wanted him to be happy, he cried onto my shoulder and told me he hadn't been happy since everyone had found out. I wanted him to be happy, so for a while, I became their go-between, smuggled notes to and fro. Until Anwar- that was his boyfriend's name- got beaten up by his dad and his uncles. I guess I don't need to tell you what happened next.'

Zainab stared at Parveen, wanting to hear it for herself, yet fearing her premonitions being confirmed.

'Anwar died. Abdim was broken. Stopped doing anything, stopped speaking, stopped washing- oh and here's the thing that really upset Mum and Dad, he stopped praying.' She tugged at her hair in disgust. 'One day, we all went out to a family party. I didn't want to leave him, but he looked at me in the most urgent way, he was telling me he'd be fine. I left the party early. I was so worried about him, but... it was too late. I found him hanging from his bedroom ceiling.' Parveen began sobbing, making painful snuffling noises.

Zainab didn't know what to say. She placed a hand on Parveen's shoulder. Parveen shrugged her off fiercely.

'No!' She screamed, tears streaming from her eyes, her hair flying everywhere.

'Don't you touch me! It could have happened to Syed, don't you see that? He tried to kill himself! It could have been him... I'm not going to shun Syed. Not when he needs anyone he can get, not when my brother... he needed me, Zainab.' All show of honorific was lost in Parveen's emotions. 'He needed me. Like Syed needs you. But go on.' She sneered. 'You reject him, because of your stupid pride!' She looked at Zainab for a wordless moment, then sprinted away, pushing past the bemused waiter clutching her coffee.

Zainab sat in silence, digesting what she'd been told. Whenever she'd asked after Abdim, Bushra had told her he'd moved abroad. She hadn't known, hadn't even guessed this. She'd always thought it odd that Bushra had asked after Syed so much... how would she had felt if she'd known about the suicide attempt they had covered up. Suddenly, words echoed in Zainab's head. 'It would have been better if you had died...' Zainab felt bile rise up in her throat and wanting to be anywhere other than where she was, she bounded out of her seat and flew towards the uncomplicated safety of a baby son and a husband.