He didn't find out what Tamwar had been up to, not that evening anyway. Bushra, Nadim and a nervous Zainab moved into the room, chattering, making small talk, involving Tamwar in the conversation, unsure how to deal with Syed. Masood had arrived home, doing his best to be charming, and to support his wife. The dinner that followed was one of the most uncomfortable experiences of Syed's life. His 'problem' and the 'cure' were studiously avoided, at least. And once Bushra and Nadim had made their excuses and left, Zainab sat down heavily at the table, indicating that the evening was not over yet.
'Well, that went well, don't you think?' she said with mock brightness.
Masood began to clear away the plates. Tamwar and Syed exchanged a glance, and said nothing.
Zainab cleared her throat. 'Syed... you've had several months of this 'therapy'...' she spat the word out with some distaste; the pride she had displayed in the treatment in public last week was gone. '... and you tell us... we hope... that it has helped, that you are more yourself.'
'I am', he replied, as hopefully as he could. Yes, I am, he thought, sighing internally. I'll always be myself. Nothing can change that.
'Bushra and Nadim coming here tonight, eating with us all, as a family... this means a lot. You know how much it means. But I think you know what you need to do now.' She looked at Syed expectantly.
Syed looked at Tamwar, genuinely puzzled. 'What, what do I need to do next?' Mas had arrived back in the room, and was standing in the doorway, looking guarded. Zainab looked to him for support.
'Amira', said Masood, firmly. 'You need to find Amira, and bring her back here. She is your wife, Syed.'
'... and there's no reason now for you not to be together', Zainab continued hurriedly. 'All this... it has been a blip, a distraction. Find Amira, bring her back here, and everything can continue as it should... you'll stay here, start a family... think of it, Syed...'
Syed looked from his mother to his father, genuinely shocked. He thought of the last time he'd seen Amira. Yes, she had begged him to stay with her, not to bring her into disgrace. But had she meant it? He remembered also how he'd pleaded with her, told her that surely she didn't want to live the rest of their lives like this. The awkwardness and the silence in their marriage had been intolerable, even at the beginning. She wasn't an idiot, she had surely known this too. Could it be any different? He knew, really, that it couldn't. And if she did agree? Wouldn't he be making things even worse? Condemning them both to a miserable, lonely life together?
'I can't...' he began strongly, but then faltered, looking up at his parents.
'He can't,' Tamwar interjected. 'He can't. It isn't fair, not on either of them. Not on us'.
'Syed, you have to', Zainab pressed. 'What did you imagine was the alternative? Live alone for the rest of your life, with this hanging over you? People always wondering, about you, about us? Bring your wife home. Rebuild your marriage. It's the only way'. She looked again to Masood.
Syed thought he saw doubt in his father's eyes, but Masood steeled himself, clearly committed to backing his wife up. 'Go and find her, Syed.' That was all he said. He left the room. Zainab shot both her sons a look, and then followed him.
'Syed...' Tamwar started, but his brother cut him short. 'Just don't, Tamwar. I don't know. I don't know what I'm going to do'. It had been a long evening, he was tired, and he had no defences left.
'Syed... you told me last week. You told me that you love him. Christian'. Syed flinched visibly as Tamwar said his name. 'And I know that you meant it. This whole thing is ridiculous, it always has been. You can't change who you are, or who you love. And you can't want to drag Amira back into this mess'. He was angry, but also desperate. Desperate for Syed not to make this mistake.
Syed sank down onto the sofa, with his head in his hands. 'I don't know what I'm going to do', he repeated. 'I don't know what I can do. I don't know what choice I have'.
Tamwar shook his head, and moved to leave the room, and to leave the house. 'You do', he insisted. 'You do have a choice. There has to be a choice'. And he slammed the door behind him.