Sameer could almost taste the crispy syrup-infused dough melt in his mouth as he stood watching Raza bhai deftly squeeze a piping bag filled with batter into a large pot of boiling oil. Standing across the street from Raza Sweets, the best halwai in Shikarpur, maybe even in all of Larkana, he desperately tried to distract himself from the tantalizing aroma of cardamom and saffron filling his nostrils by reminding himself that St. Joseph's Convent for girls let out at precisely 3:30 pm, which meant she would be here any minute now.

Focusing on anything but the mouth-watering sweets near him, he observed the people hurrying about the busy bazaars of Ghazali Road. He watched as a group of women wearing floral headscarves haggled with a fruit vendor. A woman with long brown hair braided down her back shopped for jhumkas. Bunty the mechanic rode past on his bright blue scooty, which meant another car had broken down in the middle of the road somewhere. A man sat with his young son on a bike, enjoying the sizzling hot mutton kebabs being served to them with tangy green chutney.

Sameer sighed heavily when he heard the deep voice of the maulvi on the loudspeaker calling for prayer. It was now fifteen minutes past 3:30, and the initial enthusiasm he had displayed in the morning was slowly morphing into frustration.

That morning, before going to school, his mother had called him to her room after she had finished braiding his younger sister’s hair. “Ye lo,” she had whispered in a conspiratorial tone, affectionately brushing out his unkempt hair with her fingers and pushing two one rupee coins into his hand. “Maine suna hai ki aajkal Raza halwai wale ke paas jalebiyan bhi milne lag gayi hai..” she had said, winking at him. In his excitement, he had run out the door, almost forgetting to thank his mother. For the money, and for her approval. Because the fact that he had two coins in his hand instead of one clearly meant that she approved of the girl he was going to spend the other coin on.

Sameer had gazed up at his mother adoringly, breathing in the scent of freshly baked bread and jasmine blossoms that always seemed to follow her, before planting a huge kiss on her cheek. “Shukriya amma,” he had said before running to catch the small van that took him to school every day.

That was almost seven hours ago, and after a long day of barely paying attention in his classes due to his eagerness, his spirits were now falling. That's when he saw a small figure bounding up the street towards him, her two chotis flying in the air behind her, the strange orange hue of the ribbons glinting in the sunlight. She finally stopped before him, breathing hard and clutching her sides.

Big brown eyes lined with kohl looked up at him as she started, “I'm so, so sorry, I..” Sameer held up a hand, silencing her. Then he showed her the silver coins with a glint in his eyes and pointed to Raza bhai’s shop. Her face broke into a mischievous smile, showing two missing front teeth. Her cheeks were red from running, and the strange ribbons in her hair were coming loose. Sameer thought she looked like the most beautiful girl in the world. Then she grabbed his hand and dragged him towards the shop responsible for the delicious smells invading their nostrils.

Later, after they had devoured the sweets in minutes and then extra free ones, courtesy of Raza bhai, Hania and him stretched out in the middle of his father's sugarcane fields watching the hues of the sun slowly set on the horizon. Hania's qamis was crumpled and stained from all the running and eating, an offset to Sameer’s neat and crisp kurta. He watched her as she sat with her eyes closed against the cool evening winds, her now completely undone hair gently blowing with the breeze. He looked around and saw the peculiar orange ribbons lying on the ground near a sugarcane plant. He picked them up and waved them in front of Hania’s eyes, “Aren't all the proper young ladies of St. Joseph’s convent strictly supposed to wear either red or green ribbons in their hair?” he asked, waggling his eyebrows at her. She rolled her eyes and said, “It's a good thing I'm not a proper young lady then and I love orange. It's special, I'm the only one that wears it.”

Sameer started trying to loop the ribbons into his short curly hair and said, “You know, I bet these ribbons look better on me than they do on you. In fact, I think I'm going to keep them.” Hania lurched forward towards him, but he was already running away, laughing as the winds stung his cheeks. He could hear Hania somewhere behind him yelling expletives that would make her mother beat her with a wooden spoon, trying to keep up with him in her loose sirwal trousers. He didn't know how long they ran for, but when he finally slowed down enough to let Hania tackle him to the ground, he could feel his heart hammering against his rib cage as if it was trying to get out.

Later, when they were walking back home, he tried to convince himself that the unusual activity in his heart was due to the exercise and not the girl beside him, but he failed spectacularly.

The glorious summer of '46, as Sameer passed to sixth grade with flying colors, was overshadowed by Baba’s strong disapproval of Hania. After he had snuck out of the house on multiple occasions to meet her, as his father frowned upon it, Baba called him to his study. Sameer stood on the plush, imported rug with intricate Soumak designs that felt like a cushion under his feet and heard Baba say that he wasn't allowed to go out to meet Hania anymore.

“But Baba, she's my best friend!” Sameer cried out as his father refused to let him go see her for the third day in a row.

“No, she’s not!” his father finally snapped, irritated by his pestering. “She’s Ajmal Khan’s daughter, and I will not have my son falling in love with the daughter of a member of the Muslim League who is publicly known for hating Hindus!”

“It's too late for that,” Sameer thought meekly, but decided not to say it out loud as Baba’s angry face was turning an ugly shade of purple. But he clearly read what was on his mind because he launched into a tirade.

“Listen to me boy, listen carefully,” he said in a serious tone. “Ajmal Khan hates us, and not just because we’re Hindus. He's had his eye on our lands and shops for quite some time now, trying to sabotage all of my deals in any way he can. He's a hateful man with a vendetta who belongs to a political party that hates our kind and has been trying to drive us out of our homeland for ages. And I hate to say it, but his daughter can't be much better than him. So you will stay away from that girl. Is that clear?” he asked firmly.

“Yes, Baba,” Sameer said in a morose tone, biting his tongue to stop himself from defending her to his father. He heard his father’s warning loud and clear, but he didn't take heed because it didn't matter what her father did. Hania was perfect and could do nothing wrong.

It was this reasoning that led him to invite Hania to his house next weekend. Sameer’s parents had gone to a neighboring town for a business deal his father was interested in, taking his little sister with them. Sameer had insisted on staying back by faking a sudden stomachache. So he was left alone in the sprawling manor under the fussy care of a few trusted servants. He had sent the servants away on various errands, and he knew they wouldn't be back for a few hours. They had agreed to the errands easily enough, after all, “Zamindar sahab ke ladke ko kaun mana kar sakta hai?”

Sameer waited patiently on the balcony that overlooked the entire street, straining his eyes looking for the slight figure of the girl he loved. When he finally saw her, he ran down the stairs and met her at the gate. She was wearing a bright blue hijab today and a loose kurta and trousers set. Her chocolate-colored eyes sparkled in the sunlight as she looked up at him, a hazel curl escaped from her hijab and he tucked it away.

They walked into the house and sat on the swing in the verandah. “Your mother went with your father to Nasirabad? Isn't the journey hard in this heat?” she asked suddenly, interrupting their game of marbles.

“Huh? Oh yeah, she doesn't like being away from my father for too long,” Sameer replied, looking up from the game.

“Wow. She really loves him a lot. I wonder what that's like,” she said with a faraway look in her eyes.

“I know what it's like,” Sameer said, looking straight into her eyes with a wicked grin.

She blushed and looked away, making Sameer burst into laughter. Hania turned a darker shade of red, causing Sameer to laugh even harder. Hania shoved his arm and told him to shut up. Then her eyes adopted a teasing glint, and she said, “So you really love me huh? As much as your father loves your mother?”

Sameer nodded vigorously. “Then you have to marry me,” she said, and the marbles fell out of Sameer’s hands  as he jerked back surprised.

Hania laughed out loud, enjoying his discomfort. “Cruel, stubborn girl,” he said affectionately.

“That'll teach you not to tease me with false promises,” she said.

“False promises?” he asked, adopting a more serious tone.

“There’s nothing false about them,” Sameer said, looking straight into her eyes with a somber tone. He grabbed her arm, looked straight into her eyes, and said, “I'm going to marry you one day, Hania Alim Khan, and you better believe it.”

She sputtered and told him to stop saying nonsensical things, but he was adamant. So she simply said, “Prove it.” At those two words, Sameer silently took her hand and led her up to his father’s study. They walked past the table and bookshelf into the smaller adjoining room, which Sameer opened with the hidden key he took out from one of the books in the bookshelf. They entered the room and went straight to the large vault that stood in the corner of the room. It was black and had BC written in bold on its side. BC stood for Bennington Corporations, which was the company the British man who Baba had done a favor for worked at. That man had gifted Baba this expensive vault with a complex lock.

Sameer bent down and input the password. It was his birthday, after all. He ignored the documents with the red seals and the large amount of cash and went straight for the jewelry box. He took the ring and held it up to her. Hania stared at the ring with its delicate cold band, the diamond the size of a rock that sat on top of it and the green emeralds surrounding the diamond.

“When we get older, I'm going to come to your house and ask your Abba for your hand and then when he says yes, I'm going to give my grandmother’s ring to you and marry you,” Sameer said in a somber tone.

Hania looked up at him, her eyes glistening with unshed tears, and threw her arms around him, which was enough of an answer for him.

Over the next few weeks, Sameer’s life was perfect. He snuck out and met Hania. They went and tossed stones in the river, watching them skip away. They ate tandoori chicken from street vendors and generally caused trouble wherever they went.

Then a day before Hania’s birthday, 13th August, Sameer begged his mother to go to the market with him as he wanted to buy a beautiful silver bracelet he had found for Hania. His mother agreed and went with him after he relentlessly pestered her for a few hours. As they shopped for the bracelets, surrounded by beautiful glass bangles and bracelets in every color imaginable, Sameer noticed a change in the bazaar. The chattering in the bazaar had lessened to an almost eerie silence. Sameer’s mother grabbed his arm and led him through the busy streets that were filled with people that looked…….angry?

“But Amma…” he started.

“Keep quiet, Sameer,” his mother said, her tone uncharacteristically serious. Sameer and his mother reached their house and hurried inside.

“Suniye ji!” his mother called for his father as soon as they entered. When no response came, they started looking for his father and younger sister. Finally, they came across his study. His mother and him walked in and went to the open door of the adjoining room. Her mother gasped and flung the pallu of her saree across his eyes, trying to shield him from the scene. But he had already seen. That much blood was hard to miss. He pushed aside his mother and ran in, taking in the scene and avoiding the unmoving faces of his father and sister. His mother dragged him out of the room and downstairs, telling him to hurry as they had to leave before the riots started again. He hardly heard her as she told him riots had broken out all over the country and The Partition the Muslim League had been pushing for was already in motion. He couldn't feel his limbs as he followed her to the wagon that would hide them and take them to India. All he could focus on was the orange ribbon he had seen in the vault room, lying near his father's head, half soaked in his blood.