Hi! Just wondering where the Silent Night oneshot is. Thanks!
Right here!
Better late than never, I hope!
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@modosphere
Hi! Just wondering where the Silent Night oneshot is. Thanks!
Right here!
Better late than never, I hope!

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Silent Night
Christmas Eve Styles Family Home Malibu, California 2023
“They look so adorable, don’t they?” Rose smiled, appearing next to me. I nodded, turning back to Ed, Dany and Hughie as they stared, unblinking, at the newest range of Power Rangers storm through a skyscraper. It was extremely gushy of me, I knew, but seeing Dany clutch his red Power Ranger in awe made me feel happy. “Looks are so deceiving…” Rose added, making me laugh. She had that right - especially since Ari had been born, I’d learnt that despite all of the innocent looks, brother and sister were anything but.
Maybe if it didn’t remind me of myself and Adam so much, I wouldn’t have minded as much as I should.
I followed Rose into the kitchen after looking at the boys one more time, the three of them practically falling off the sofa, they were watching the TV so raptly.
Christmas with Rose had officially become tradition. Everyone put it down to Rose’s food and amazing hosting skills, but I knew better, even if I didn’t say it - it was understood between Rose, Harry and I that even though Rose had never gotten her memories back, hosting Christmas was something she was comfortable with; like the constancy of it was therapy for her or something.
Five years. Five years since the accident and it still felt too close, too raw. It still hurt, knowing Rose couldn’t remember such a huge part of her - our - lives - and having to watch her hope deteriorate. No matter how many times the doctors had warned her that her memories returning was becoming less and less likely, she’d never given up, saying her brain would magically heal itself like one of those medical miracles she always saw on TV. She’d just kept… Waiting. Yes, okay, she’d still lived her life while she did wait, but she hadn’t been living properly - she hadn’t been living her life as Rose Avery.
Just a few months into her job with with the London Met, she’d given it up - and not because of her pregnancy with Ed, but because she’d claimed she couldn’t be “taken seriously” when the paparazzi were constantly snapping pictures of her and Harry together. Of course, I’d known that was a lie. Rose Avery, or what little had been left of her, was who had sent in the application for the London Met job; but Rose didn’t know that person anymore. So by the time Ed was born, the only version of herself she knew was Rose Styles.
Of course, that didn’t mean my best friend wasn’t in there any more. It just meant she… She wasn’t exactly the same best friend I’d always had. I’d always dodged the question when she’d asked, but the old Rose wouldn't have been able to adapt to being a 1D wife as quickly as this Rose had; she’d charmed the fans, embraced the limelight, where the old Rose would have been too insecure to make it last. It had been a good change.
But she was more stubborn than before. So it had hurt more and more to watch her diligently wait for a brain miracle that wasn’t about to happen.
It was silly to think about now, but… Well, nobody else had bothered to keep hope for Rose’s memories as more and more time had gone on. Why should they? Rose losing her memories somehow made everything… Easier. Liam and Harry’s underlying issues stopped existing when Rose couldn’t notice them and feel insecure about them anymore and Eddie had… Extracted himself from the situation by then. The stupid boy had given up too, and now that Rose only remembered Ryan as a friend, he’d considered hanging around as pointless.
I’d tried to maintain hope, really. But deep down, I’d lost it before Rose had. How could I? Just because I’d not believed in happily-ever-afters only to have one handed to me at the last minute, it didn’t mean I expected that to happen all the time. Too much time had passed for Rose to suddenly just… Remember. And honestly, the entire time, it felt like the Rose who I’d known before the accident was in there somewhere deep down, wishing she wouldn’t fully remember. Her life was simpler this way.
But Rose wasn’t stupid - after two years, she finally accepted that her memories were gone.
It hadn’t been pretty.
I’d felt so… Obsolete. Even if she couldn’t remember it, how many times had Rose been there for me? Pulled me through, made me smile when I’d thought I couldn’t anymore? But when Rose finally accepted that she’d lost access to an entire part of her life, I… I was useless.
What kind of a friend did that make me?
The only word I had to describe how she’d been when the doctors had told her there was nothing more they could do, is depressed. She stopped going out as much, she struggled to find things to do at home. She just… Lost interest, until one day she and Harry had gotten into a ridiculous argument in front of a two-year old Darcy.
It had been insane. Rose and Harry didn’t argue; they sniped and sighed and moaned at each other, but they didn’t argue, not properly - certainly not the way Aman and I did when we kicked off, in a flash of fireworks and shouting. But Rose had gone totally insane - shouting, screaming, throwing things. Once she’d calmed down - and that took a week, a whole week of ranting coffee sessions and threats of divorce -, I’d managed to get her to agree to getting some time away. It had actually been Harry’s idea, but… Harry had been public enemy number one at the time.
She’d spent two weeks away, two terrifying weeks where I didn’t know where my best friend was or if she was okay. Even though Harry had promised he’d be able to handle things by himself, Ed had stayed with us for a while. We’d been home in London and Harry and Rose hadn’t bought their California place yet - so Ed and Darcy stayed with us during the day and Harry took baby Darcy between recording the new album of the time.
That said, it was no secret that Harry being alive this long after being given responsibility of his own breathing was nothing short of a miracle - so I’d made sure he and Darcy had spent plenty of time with us, too. If Rose needed time away to get her shit together, then fine, but I’d at least make sure her husband didn’t lose himself and his baby girl to baby wolves during the time she was away.
Rose had come back completely refreshed, and had acted as if nothing had happened. As cruel as it sounded, seeing her finally so content with herself had made me relieved. In an odd way, the accident had set her free in a way she never would have been if she hadn’t lost her memory - and now that the gap in her mind was here to stay, what was the purpose of wishing it wasn’t? Yes, I wished Rose remembered all of our jokes and all of the milestones we’d had when she’d first arrived in London, but I still had her here, with me - we were still together. So my selfishness, for once, just had to shut up and deal.
So even though it was a really dumb thing to reminisce about so much later… I still felt so proud of Rose. She looked so elegant in the sleeveless, olive-green dress she’d taken at least a month to choose. Elegant and content.
We’d gotten through it all.
There was a party in full swing, with tinsel wrapped around the banisters and scented candles lit in every room. Rose had hired catering staff to keep serving guests snacks and fancy flutes of champagne, even though she had cooked one of the most amazing meals I’d ever witnessed for dinner. The guests were mainly industry friends of Rose and Harry, some of them people I knew from way back when, but all of the familiar faces were here too - Niall was here with Alanna, Hughie and Izzy, who was sporting her ridiculously tiny pregnant stomach at seven months; Liam and Kara were here with the twins, who were called that even though they weren’t; Ryan was kicking around somewhere, chatting up some models. Rose’s family hadn’t been in touch since the accident, but she had a new family now - us. And we weren’t going anywhere.
The only couples that were missing were Louis and Vivienne and, of course, my beloved ex-husband and ex-childhood best friend. Lou and Vivienne were spending Christmas in Mexico as part of their honeymoon… Yep, honeymoon. The two idiots had finally stopped playing with one another and had decided to get married in a tiny ceremony in the middle of nowhere, with just their family as witnesses and baby Scarlett as a bridesmaid. Although we’d all teased them about being cut out, we weren’t angry - honestly, so long as Vivienne was finally committing, I was more than happy. She’d taken long enough. That girl’s commitment issues were legendary and God only knew how Louis had been not-so-subtly trying to tie Vivienne down for years now.
As for Zayn… Well, I didn’t miss him in any way. He’d finally gotten one child ahead of me - Layla had given birth in England to their newest son, Syed.
It was pathetic, really, how Zayn felt the need to get Layla to pop out another baby the moment he found out I was pregnant. Mikael, his eldest, had been announced as on the way less than three months after I’d announced I was pregnant with Dany. It was sad, really. No, actually, not sad - downright pathetic. It also turned out that Rianna, their only girl, had been cooking in Layla’s stomach when Zayn had tried to make my and Aman’s baby his through raping me.
God, I hated him. It hit me in waves, the space between them always making me think I was over it, but… The mere mention of him made me want to tear him to pieces. He’d seen Ari, my baby Ari, as some sort of sick substitute for his pitfalls as a husband when we’d been married. Who did that? Who tried to hijack the innocence of a brand new baby, to try and use in their own sick agenda?
Oh, right. The creep I’d once made the mistake of marrying.
It really was a godsend that I’d met Aman. If I’d hadn’t, I would have always just assumed I had really shitty taste in men.
I did worry about Layla, every now and then - though reason, as well as everyone I knew, told me I shouldn’t. I didn’t care if it sounded egotistical; every fibre of my being told me that Zayn had married one of my friends, someone who had been at my wedding the first time around, out of pure spite. Did he treat her right? From what I’d heard and seen he did, but I knew better than anyone what a two-faced prat Zayn really was.
That said, Layla and I weren’t built the same. Zayn couldn’t just get up and leave Layla whenever he wanted - she’d take him for everything he had if he dared. In a sick way, they kind of deserved one another.
Anyway - it was because Zayn and Layla were still in England that Aman and I were celebrating Christmas with Rose for the first time in at least two years. It was nice, to be back again. Therapeutic, almost - it felt like nothing had changed even though everything had, and for the better.
“Where are Darcy and Zarina?” Rose asked, nudging me and snapping me out of my nostalgia. She handed me a pack of extra long candles and motioned with her head to the candles on the table. It was pathetic. I was a mother of two, but was still too scared to use normal-length candles.
“The playroom, the last I saw, with Alanna and Izzy.” I told her, trying to shake off the overwhelming sense of oldness that I felt whenever I saw Alanna. Alanna was five years old now - five, huge years old. It felt like only five minutes had passed since we’d all been waiting outside Isolde’s hospital room, listening to her scream as she gave birth. How had five years changed everything so much? Putting aside the motherhood, I even had a new husband; and after two kids, I didn’t even think of him as new anymore.
Hell, on paper, I was even a respectable businesswoman. That had never been a… Thing, five years ago; but then, five years ago, I hadn’t had shares in Conde Nast, or had been developing the media branch of the Zafar Inc. I’d barely learnt what an eyelash curler was back then - and now, I could apply mascara in a moving vehicle, with my son playing Power Rangers next to me.
“You really need to explain why you’re dressed like a tramp to me.” Rose sighed, eyeing me. Um, rude. “Like, seriously, what is even going on over there?”
“Hasn’t anyone ever told you it’s not hospitable to insult your guests?”
“I wasn’t hosting the party where that was said.” Rose grinned cheekily, making me laugh. “So. Explanation?”
I looked down at myself. I hadn’t thought my outfit wasn’t presentable! Less on the fitted side that baggy, yes, but still appropriately festive. My jumper was oversized with a strip of black lace running down each sleeve, but my jeans were skinny and my heels weren’t ugly. I was just… Covered.
“How do you know I haven’t just gotten really fat?” I retorted. “I could actually be crying on the inside right now, because of your comment. I could be really offended. Ever think of that?”
“Nice try!” Rose snorted. “You enjoy being some kind of yoga dominatrix way too much in bed with that sexy husband of yours to ever really let yourself go.”
There was no point pretending she was wrong, so I let her see my smug smile. Hey. I had talents in the bedroom now.
That had definitely changed in the past five years.
“You really need to tell me what’s going on with you.” Rose continued, swatting my hands away from picking some strawberries from reindeer’s nose. Oh, yes. Rose had made a reindeer cake. “I know there’s something and I will keep you hostage until you tell me.”
“As flattering as your obsessive behaviour is,” I said in my snootiest voice. “My bank balance and ability to strike the fear of God in anyone who questions me, means that I could do something about it.” I grinned as I took one of the strawberries, ignoring Rose’s narrowed eyes. “You’re just a pop-star’s wife. If this were an episode of Gossip Girl, which our lives clearly are nowadays, I am definitely Lily van der Woodsen enough to win a rich-people’s smackdown.”
“I’m going to let that one go, just because I know it comes from your jealous place.” Rose told me, flicking me with the napkin she’d been holding. I laughed, dodging it. “You’re just mad that the world knows how hot I look in a swimsuit, after last month’s shoot. And I know something is up. I’ll get it out of you.”
“Good luck with that.” I grinned, stealing another strawberry and laughing as Rose looked like she was about to tackle me. “And who cares if you look better in a swimsuit - I’m a yoga dominatrix in bed according to you, remember?!”
Of course, Rose just laughed.
It didn’t take long for the rest of Rose’s guests to slowly disappear. Everyone wanted to look glamorous and rested for Christmas Day and after an hour or so, it was just us - the original group, but the extended edition.
We ended up sitting on the patio - or “porch”, as the new English-to-American dictionary in my head informed me - overlooking the sea, the wall-sized window of the lounge allowing us to watch as the children slept. Despite Niall’s initial worries that Hughie wouldn’t get along with Ed and Dany thanks to how close they were, the three of them were sprawled across one another on the sofa, asleep.
Dany’s arm was hanging off the sofa’s arm-rest, his fingers loosely linked with Ari’s hand through the bars of the cot Harry had brought down for Darcy and Ari to share.
Pathetic as it was, it made me feel… Happy, knowing how close Danyal and Zarina were. Everyone, including Aman, kept telling me that it didn’t mean it would last into adulthood, but… Well, how could it not? It had been some kind of miracle, having Danyal at all - and then having Zarina so healthy, especially considering the challenges she’d been put through before even being born. Dany had never become jealous of the attention Ari had gotten when she was born; if anything, even though he was barely older than he, he doted on her.
Even now, after being (fairly) happily married for four years - and having actually loved him for more than that, unlike the first time -, I was still waiting for the other shoe to drop. My children adored one another, my husband and I didn’t hate each other and then there was the news I had to tell Rose…
I hadn’t expected this. I hadn’t expected this all to happen so quickly but now that it had, I didn’t regret it; which was strange, because before now, I’d been a barrel-full of regrets whenever things were moving too fast.
Apparently, my incessant need to be a control freak was subsiding. Ever so slightly.
I was - for lack of a better term - maturing. Supposedly. It was hard to believe when it was just Aman and I arguing over what channel to watch once Dany and Ari were in bed, but seeing my friends around me… We’d all matured.
Like Niall and Isolde. They were sitting beside Aman and I, Niall sitting on the floor with Isolde’s sock-clad legs resting over his shoulder. Although Izzy was just as fierce as ever, finally being with Niall meant she’d mellowed slightly - but only slightly. They balanced one another out, now. Isolde wasn’t as bitter about being thrust into the limelight, because she’d finally realised it wouldn’t affect Niall’s duties as a father. Even Aman had been ecstatic when they’d finally announced they were getting married - just after Isolde had found out she was pregnant with Hughie, at an intimate, fairy-tale like ceremony in Ireland with Alanna as a flower girl. We’d been invited - Niall had insisted there’d be no trouble with Zayn there - but it… It hadn’t felt right. As much of an amazing pair of friends Niall and Isolde had been to me, I couldn’t ruin the balance. Zayn had been there first.
Plus, you know, Aman still wanted to stick his head on a spike and attach it to the back of one of the cars.
What with Vivienne and Louis finally tying the lot - the boys truly were like dominos, once one got married and had children, the others followed -, Liam and Kara were the only ones who hadn’t gotten married. That wasn’t exactly surprising - even when Kara had found out she was pregnant with Charlie, she’d wondered if it was the right choice. Considering she was all too ready to give the rest of us much needed uncomfortable advice when necessary, it was nice to be able to pay her back a little - they hadn’t even been living with one another until Kara was at least four months pregnant, which was when Liam - and everyone else - put their foot down.
Still - seeing them snuggling together on the seat opposite made me smile. Liam had made some really sucky choices in his life, including forcing Kara into rehab and then forcing himself into her life, but by an amazing bout of luck it had worked out; even better, Kara wasn’t afraid to call Liam out on his crap. Of which there was plenty.
Harry and Rose didn’t count in my proud reminiscing. Harry and I had finally managed to get back on track after his… Behaviour following Rose’s accident and in a weird way, it had made us closer. It also made me tell him regularly that he was a giant loser who I’d happily rip apart if he ever hurt Rose, but I knew I didn’t have to say it. I’d seen Harry and Rose happen. And even though I still wasn’t sure if Harry had been the best choice out of him and Eddie, he had turned out to be the right one - he was here, with her and I knew better than anyone how Rose needed that.
“Thank you again, for inviting us to dinner tomorrow, Rose.” Liam sighed as he stretched. “I’m really looking forward to it. When you still hadn’t invited us at the beginning of the month, I was getting a bit worried.”
I snorted loudly at Kara’s mortified expression.
“I am so sorry about his atrocious manners.” Kara muttered, nudging Liam hard in the ribs. “I think what he means, Rose, is thank you for your wonderful hospitality.”
“Hospitality.” Rose smiled… Except that was not a happy smile. Oh, no, how much wine had she had? “You’d know all about that, too-”
“How about more cake?” I said loudly, ignoring Aman raise his eyebrows at my sudden enthusiasm. It wasn’t enough to stop everyone from noticing what Rose had said, but I was hoping it would lessen the impact. I started picking up some of the empty bottles and dishes on the table, mouthing Kara a sorry when I was opposite her. “Rose? You know I can’t be trusted in your kitchen alone. Come on, up you get.”
I glared at Harry as Rose silently strutted into the kitchen, looking annoyed. What the Hell was that? Had Rose not wanted Kara at the party? I understood Harry putting his foot down and saying she had to be - there was no way Liam could come and not Kara - but Rose was volatile. She didn’t like being forced to do things nowadays, even if she knew they were right.
One of the accident’s little side effects.
Rose was already sipping on a fresh glass of wine when I found her in the kitchen. Some of the cleaning team were already here, packing up dirty dishes from earlier in the night.
“What,” I said slowly. “Was that just now?”
“You didn’t let me finish.” Rose shrugged. “So it’s not like I said the whole of what I was going to say.”
“Everyone understood where you were going with it.” I sighed, handing the pile of dishes to one of the cleaners. I did not clean. Some things never changed. “I mean, a crack about-” I stepped closer and lowered my voice. Liam had worked hard to make Kara’s past disappear. “- her past career? Not cool, Rose.”
“What’s not cool is everyone, including you, acting like she’s one of us!” Rose protested, setting her wine glass down angrily. “Sure, Isolde is our friend and you’ve known Vivienne for a long time, but she’s practically a random stranger, sitting in my house - for what?”
“Rose.” Where had this come from? It was no secret that Rose wasn’t exactly warm with Kara, but she’d never been outright nasty, either. “We’ve known Kara for a long time-”
“Since when is how long you’ve known someone a good measurement?” Rose snapped. “You knew Zayn for less than a year when you guys shacked up. What difference does time make?”
… What?
I didn’t say anything for a few seconds - not just because I was stunned at the guerrilla tactics, but because something was wrong with what Rose had just said. Something that was setting off alarm bells.
No. No, I was imagining things - Rose was just angry and lashing out and so I was making excuses for her. I was being stupid.
Except…
I pushed it to the back of my mind, seeing how Rose’s eyes had widened at what she’d just said.
“I’m going to go back into the other room, before you say more stuff we both regret.” I said quietly. “And unless you want to drive your guests away before lunch tomorrow, I’d suggest you calm down before you go back in there, because nobody else is a fan of the bomb you just dropped.” I didn’t have to say the rest - that Rose was lucky Vivienne wasn’t there, because Vivienne would have lost it, or that Harry was aghast at her behaviour -, and so I left the kitchen, leaving Rose in there.
Something feels wrong! She shouldn’t - no. I wasn’t doing this. I wasn’t doubting her.
Rose came back out onto the deck a few minutes later, all smiles and apologising about her outburst - she claimed it was a stress-related event thanks to problems with the turkey. She even apologised to Kara; she “explained” how she meant Kara had been to so many parties and things, Rose had been expressing how flattered she was - but that, after I’d explained how it had come across, she was sorry if she’d been misunderstood.
It was a lame excuse. A ridiculously lame excuse. But everyone, including Kara, pretended to accept it because that made things less uncomfortable.
Rose and I didn’t talk for the rest of the night.
. . .
Christmas morning was like something out of Miracle on 54th Street.
Harry and Rose had bought presents for Danyal and Zarina and left them under the tree, and of course we’d bought gifts for everyone before arriving. We’d stayed over - like we’d planned to, despite Aman being disgruntled at the thought of relying on anyone, regardless of how well he and Harry got along -, but the weird feeling at the back of my head was still there. Like I was deliberately missing something, like I was ignoring something huge.
I carried on ignoring it.
“Those PJs are hideous. Explain.” Rose laughed, handing me a mug of fresh coffee. Aman looked at me, confused, as I subtly put it beside me and it wasn’t hard to read his mind; she doesn’t know?
“Hey, I dressed for comfort.” I protested, rather put out that nobody else loved my pyjamas - Aman’s Harvard sweatshirt and a pair of my comfiest grey joggers. “And are you sure there’s nothing I can do to help for later? Please say yes. Otherwise I’m stuck babysitting these two idiots.”
Aman and Harry snickered as they high-fived over my head.
“She’s just jealous of our love.” Harry told Aman happily.
“Unless you tell me what you’re hiding from me, it’s your punishment.” She shrugged evilly. I smiled - I wasn’t over what she’d said yesterday -, though promising myself I’d tell her tonight. I had to. One bitchy comment didn’t make her any less… Rose. “And anyway, I’ve told the others too, that everyone has to starve until it’s time to eat. Christmas dinner has come out fabulous.”
We all stopped as Dany and Ed started to wave their arms excitedly at their newest present - ones, I realised instantly, Harry and Aman had chosen for them. Matching water pistols, in loud colours. The boys were already making shooting noises and the toy wasn’t even out of its packaging yet.
Darcy and Ari watched them from where they sat in their fathers’ laps, snuggling close under the same blanket.
I smiled as Danyal tripped over Ed’s legs, to squirt Ari in the face with water. Ari hated water in her face - she screamed blue murder whenever I washed her hair. Considering I was the most hated person on the planet when I washed her face, her outraged giggle in response to the water pistol was almost offensive.
Almost.
Darcy, on the other hand, ripped the pistol out of Ed’s hands and attacked his face with it.
Ah, the girls.
Ari giggled loudly at Ed’s outraged face, watching carefully as Dany yanked Ed’s T-shirt to his face and told him “wipe it”. So mature, just at three.
“What’re you thinking?” Aman asked me quietly, unnoticed as Rose and Harry discussed something between themselves over our heads.
“Nothing.” I smiled, attacking Ari’s cheek with kisses and laughing loudly as she pulled my face down and attempted to do the same thing back. It wasn’t quite perfect, but it was definitely good enough for me - her skin was always so soft, but her strength always surprised me. “I’m just… I’m just glad that we have such a big family.”
. . .
The rest of the day passed in a lazy, festive blur.
I, as tradition dictated, was amazed at the seamlessness of Rose’s efficiency. There was officially no room for my kitchen ineptitude and even though that meant I spent the day becoming increasingly freaked out at how Rose and I had given birth to boys who were essentially younger, more mischievous versions of their fathers, I did feel kind of guilty that I wasn’t useful at all.
Not guilty enough to actually help bark out orders at the catering staff, like Rose was, but enough to prove I had a conscience.
I was in charge, with Harry, of getting the children ready - that was an experience. Harry had lovingly tied Darcy’s long brown hair into a little bun and had spent the entire time grinning at her, as she stepped into her sparkly red dress.
Ari, on the other hand, had kicked and screamed at the prospect of wearing anything remotely feminine. She hated dresses. I was sure she partially thought she was a boy like her brother - Dany was in black trousers and a white shirt and Ed was even wearing a little tie -, but Aman put it down to Ari “being confident in her femininity”.
All that meant to me, was that Ari only ended up wearing the Dolce & Gabbana printed dress Harry had bought her for Christmas because Darcy pointed out that hers was still more sparkly and Harry promised Ari she could wear one of Ed’s hats with the dress.
Ari currently was obsessed with hats. She wore her father’s Yankees cap to bed.
Surely Dany should have been the more difficult one? But no. Dany was laid-back when it came to clothes and getting dressed. His only demands were Batman underwear and vests that weren’t itchy - he had sensitive skin -, but other than that… He didn’t care what he was wearing. But my little girl? No. No, the only dress she’d ever willingly bought in the two years she’d spent on this planet, was a dress that was covered in comic strips.
Was I meant to be proud or embarrassed at how much she was like me?
Harry did Ari’s hair too, which was a miracle in itself. He managed to brush it through and pull it into a neat pony tail - complete with a red rose clip on the side. If I’d have tried that, Zarina probably would have bitten me.
“You know Rose is going to have something to say about that outfit?” Harry grinned, seeing what I was wearing when I finally got dressed.
I was wearing a beige cashmere jumper that did not at all cling, the same black skinny jeans from the day before and a pair of beige loafers, a long, thick black cardigan thrown on top.
“This isn’t trampy!” I protested, allowing Harry to stand behind me and latch my necklace for me. “It’s elegant! And I’m wearing jewellery, so it’s still festive, too.”
“This is to do with what you’re hiding, isn’t it?” Harry asked - and I laughed because really, when was Harry ever that observant? “Your hair looks nice.”
I’d left it out and done nothing to it, including brushing, but just told him thanks.
Everything was lovely. Louis and Vivienne briefly Skyped from Mexico to wish everyone a merry Christmas and Zayn text the others. Isolde’s cravings for cinnamon were quenched with Rose’s special “mulled apple juice”.
Everything was lovely, right up until when it wasn’t.
“Are you sure you don't need a hand with the burning pud?” Kara asked Rose, as we all waited around for dessert. “Trust me, I can handle a blowtorch. Occupational hazard.” She joked.
She wasn’t being malicious, or goading Rose. Kara was just… Like that. She hit things over the head and dealt with them, she joked her way out of awkward situations. We’d spent enough time talking for me to know that Kara found it difficult to not just punch someone as means of effective communication. This was her, trying.
But it backfired. Spectacularly.
Everyone laughed, except Rose. Even Aman had snorted into his glass and he made a conceited effort to not acknowledge Kara’s past, most likely because his affinity with prostitutes (that sounded so wrong) wasn’t something he planned on making public knowledge.
“Occupational hazard?” Rose repeated, looking… Furious. The alarm bells in my head got louder. “Considering you’re so proud of your career, why don’t you just come out and say the rest of the men here would make good clients? That’s what you’re thinking, right? I mean, when you talk about occupational hazards, you fail to mention the genital herpes or whatever else you’ve got, do you?” Rose laughed once, darkly. I… We were all too shocked to move. “Then again, I suppose pretending being a slut is an actual profession helps you to pretend you’re not really just some washed-up crack whore.”
Everyone stopped. Everyone, except me - because at the crack whore part, I had to shut my eyes and pretend I wasn’t seeing the smug expression on Rose’s face, right before she calmly walked out.
What - what - had possessed Rose to just… To… Lash out like that? What had she been thinking?!
I wasn’t the only one thinking it.
“Is that some kind of fucking joke?” Liam said angrily, staring around the table. I looked at Harry, but he was staring after Rose, his expression horrified. “Does someone want to tell me what’s going on?”
“She’s probably just stressing out over dinner.” Kara said quietly - and that somehow made everything worse, that she, out of everyone, was the one jumping to Rose’s defence. “I should have kept my mouth shut, really. I knew she was upset yesterday and I pushed the dark humour-”
“This isn’t your fault!” Liam snapped - before looking at me. “She’s your best friend! Want to tell us what’s going on, or what?”
“Hey, it’s not Soph’s fault!” Kara told him, looking annoyed. Oh, great. Not only was Rose calling people crack-whores under her own roof, but apparently now I was inadvertently causing a domestic. “I’m Soph’s friend and she’s never-”
“We thought Rose was your friend too, but she’s turned out to be a grade-A bitch-”
“Alright!” Harry shouted loudly. “That’s my wife you’re talking about, mate, do you want to calm down?”
And just like that, everyone was arguing.
This was insane. Insane. Rose didn’t - Rose didn’t like confrontation! She may have developed more of a spine since the accident, but she didn’t like causing trouble and she certainly did not enjoy her parties being given a bad reputation. This made no sense. This made no sense, how had I missed her freaking out like this?!
You didn’t. You knew something was wrong, but you ignored it.
This was my fault.
“Everyone, just calm down-” Niall was saying patiently, but it wasn’t working. “Look, why don’t we let Harry talk to Rose, while we cool off in here and see what’s happening next-”
“I think I should go.” Kara said firmly. “That’s what should happen next. I was the one who started it, I don’t want to ruin what’s otherwise been a lovely Christmas-”
“We’re not going until she apologises!” Liam spluttered, now in full mouthing-off mode. Wonderful. Just wonderful. “Soph, are you going to sort this out or what?”
“That has to be the second or third time you’ve said that.” Aman said quietly, looking up at Liam with an annoyed expression. I poked his leg under the table. No. No. Now was not the time for his overprotectiveness to rise up; particularly when, ever since the… Incident when I was pregnant with Ari, he’d had a much lower tolerance for any of One Direction. “Has it ever occurred to you that it’s not Soph who’s responsible for Rose’s actions?”
“Well then, do you want to tell me who is?!” Liam was still shouting, but he seemed a bit… Calmer, at seeing Aman’s expression. That wasn’t necessarily a good thing. The effect of Aman’s silent but scary temper was not something I needed to worry about right now.
Aman pretended to think, pointedly ignoring my incessant poking. Rude.
“Rose, maybe?”
“Liam, will you please just shut up and calm down?” Kara groaned loudly, shoving him away from where he was towering over the table. What was going on with Rose? What was so bad, that she couldn’t just tell someone? Me? “Manny, Soph, I’m sorry, none of this is your fault - none of this is anyone’s fault! Rose has the right to not want an ex-hooker in her home and honestly, if you guys think I haven’t heard stuff like this before, you’re underestimating how good I was at my job.”
“How are you still cracking jokes right now?” I was trying not to smile. How could Rose not like Kara? This was exactly why everyone else did! Kara was covering for Rose’s almost unforgivable blunder, as if it were the most natural thing in the world. “Please don’t leave. Let me talk to Rose and find out what’s really going on.” I squeezed Kara’s hand. She’d been such a good friend to me, for ever since I’d known her…
And just like that, I was angry. How could Rose do this? How dare she? She’d never been jealous or possessive before and if this truly was about me accepting Kara as a friend like she’d said, then she was insane. Kara had been there for me since the beginning. She hadn’t expected me to hate her because of my faith or whatever else; damn it, she’d been there for me on my wedding day when Rose hadn’t! On the day of my reception, Kara had kept me calm in a way nobody else could have - not even Rose, who had been too busy playing house.
That’s unfair. You forgave her back then, you can’t take it back now.
Yeah - not unless I’d never forgiven her in the first place.
How much did Rose think she could get away with? After the accident, I’d kept justifying her erratic behaviour as her way of coping after the accident, but how could I keep saying it was okay? This was not okay!
“Kara, sweetheart, I’m so sorry about what Rose said. You know we don’t see you like that, you’re just as much family as anyone else here is.” Harry sighed, glancing at me with false smile; play along. “Probably more than this one, since she’s so posh these days.”
“Whatever.” Kara muttered, shooting me a grin. “These peasants just don’t know how to deal with upper classes, huh, Soph?”
I grinned, feeling sick. What the Hell had Rose been playing at, lashing out at Kara like that?
“I’m just going to go and check on Rose, see what’s really going on.” I told everyone as I got up, squeezing Aman’s shoulder on my way. He understood what that meant - keep it together here. Sometimes, this whole soulmate thing wasn’t such a giant inconvenience. “And Liam - just pour yourself another drink and calm down, alright?”
“Yeah.” Liam muttered, letting Niall firmly push him back into his chair. Thankfully, he shot Aman an apologetic look. “Sorry, everyone.”
“You can’t be perfect all the time.” Aman joked, now apparently silently communicating with Niall.
“Yeah.” Niall added. “Makes the rest of us look bad.”
That was the last thing I heard before going into the kitchen - and finding Rose calmly looking out of the window, drinking a glass of wine.
I shut the door behind me.
“What the fuck,” I asked slowly. “Was that? Where did that even come from?!”
“I’m sick of her acting like being a whore is such an accomplishment.” Rose shrugged. She could pretend to be calm all she wanted - I knew her too well. I could see she was still livid. What kind of a best friend would I be if I didn’t? “I would have thought you would have backed me up and understood that, but apparently not.” I stared, speechless, as Rose looked at me disapprovingly. “I heard you out there, with Manny and Harry, covering for me. I don’t need you three to cover for me.”
“When you drop crap like that, you do.” I laughed, though not at all because I found this funny. “You invited her here, Rose! And even if you didn’t really want to, since when were you so… It’s the holiday season. You love the holiday season.”
“Oh, of course I do!” Rose suddenly shouted, making me jump as she finally turned to face me. “Of course I love the festive season! I hold Christmas every year and play happy families and you know what? You’re right, I do love that part. But what I don’t love is everyone pretending everything is just dandy! Everyone is pretending what she is doesn’t matter, that how she met Liam doesn’t matter, but when I was deciding between guys - and not giving them hand-jobs in alleyways during it all -, I was the bad guy! Somehow, when Liam was being a shitty boyfriend, I was still the whore - and she is, and what, she gets nothing?”
We didn’t say anything for a few minutes. Rose was breathing heavily and staring at me with wide eyes, like she’d said something wrong - but she hadn’t - except she had, because something felt wrong, that feeling at the back of my mind was back -
Oh, Soph, you idiot.
“… You remember.” I whispered, feeling my heart begin to thrum in my throat. I tried to swallow down the feeling - to calm down. “You… You remember.”
Yesterday. Yesterday, when she’d mentioned Zayn - it had seemed wrong because it was wrong. That was before the accident. Rose didn’t remember anything between leaving Australia and the night of the accident, when Harry had told her they were together, when he’d lied; but I’d… I’d thought it was fine. I’d thought what she’d said about Zayn was fine, because I was so used to Rose’s voice talking about my first marriage that I’d forgotten she wasn’t the same Rose anymore.
“No.” Rose muttered… But her voice was shaking. Oh, my God, she remembers. “No, no, I don’t-”
“Yes, you do!” I argued. It made sense now. It made sense! I’d gotten so used to lying to Rose about her past, because I’d had to, that hearing the truth after so long had been like… Like taking a break and only a small part of my brain had noticed. “Yes, you do! Rose, this is - this is huge! How long have you remembered?” Why was this being hidden? This was amazing news! We’d all thought it would never happen, this was great… Except it wasn’t, it wasn’t, because Rose looked… Guilty. Or at least like she was trying to hide that she felt guilty. “Oh my God, Rose, how long have you remembered?” I asked again, but this time, differently. I wasn’t excited this time.
“You don’t get to judge me.” Rose finally muttered, stabbing her finger in my direction. “You… You don’t get to judge me!”
“How long, Rose?!”
“I didn't go away because I had some kind of depressed break down, okay!” Rose suddenly shouted. Oh my God. Oh my God, she’d remembered and I hadn’t even noticed. “I know you love to think of me as this depressed loser who you need to constantly save, but-”
“What? Are you insane?”
“- I remembered! I was playing with Darcy and she was crying because Harry wasn’t around, like always-”
“She’s a child, Rose!” I snapped, seeing where this was going. Rose had been so excited to have a girl, so excited - because she saw her as a substitute, as the universe’s way of compensating her for a mother and sister that didn’t care. I’d warned her, I’d told her she couldn’t think about it like that - Darcy was a person! If we hadn’t learnt that everyone was a real person that we couldn’t just know inside out, what the Hell had we learnt after all of this time? “You do understand the concept of a child, don’t you? She’s innocent!”
“She made me remember!” Rose suddenly screamed, making me jump back. “Do you not get that? That little bitch-”
“Rose!”
“- she made me remember! And you know what? I was better off forgetting!” Rose hissed. I’d… I wanted to believe it was the drink, that all of the wine had gotten to her head, but I knew that wasn’t true. This was years’ worth of venom bubbling to the surface, venom I thought she’d trusted me enough to share in the beginning. But she hadn’t. She’d lied.
Like she was lying now.
“Two years. Two years.” I said, finally realising the maths. When she’d went away. When we’d all thought she’d lost hope, when I’d thought she was mourning.
This was huge. Huge. And I had so many questions. Did she remember everything? Had it come all at once, or was she still piecing things together? Why had she hid it, when had she decided to?
How could she have?
“Does Harry know?” I demanded. Harry. Harry. Oh, God. He’d… He thought he’d cheated her somehow, cheated himself into having a happiness he didn’t deserve. After Eddie had died - or gone away to -, he’d taken that all on himself, blaming Rose’s rejection of Eddie on himself. He’d been struggling with that ever since, he still was - but Rose knew? “He - he’s taken on your guilt about Eddie! He blames himself!”
“And there it is.” Rose muttered cruelly, staring at me up and down. “Perfect little Soph, upset because she’s losing control of micro-managing my life.”
No. No. I knew exactly what she was talking about and she did not get to say that to me.
“I did what I had to, as your friend.” I told her seriously. No. No. There was absolutely no way in Hell that she was putting that on me, acting as if I did what I did for kicks. “I did what I did because the doctors told me you were at risk and because I had to deal with damage control, when Harry and Ryan and everyone else panicked-”
“Like that’s the only control you have over my life!” Rose snorted. “What about my marriage, hmm? What about the fact that ever since before Harry and I got together, you’ve always been in the middle, you’re always acting mediator when nobody even wants you there?”
I couldn’t help it. As much as I told myself I’d changed, that I was more mature and mellow, that was a load of crap. I was not taking anyone’s crap ever again - I’d made that promise to myself a long time ago.
And Rose did not get a pass card just because she was feeling sassy.
“Well according to you, I’ve always been there - so it’s not hard to imagine your marriage falling apart without me being there to pick up the pieces of your dramas!” I snapped back instantly, not even having to think about it.
I didn’t want to do this. I didn’t want to have this conversation, this argument, with Rose. There were too many things for us to be bitter about.
But it felt really good to just say it.
“This is exactly what I mean.” Rose laughed - and it wasn’t scary to hear anymore, it was pissing me off. “Perfect little Soph, with her perfect little life, looking down on everyone else. You act like such an angel-”
“No need to act like an angel, when we know I’m a queen.” It was meant to be a joke - to calm things down, because logic told me we needed to - but it came out more serious than I intended. Not that, at this point, I cared as much as I could have. “Just because you are too wrapped up in pretending to be someone else, doesn’t mean everyone else is as screwed up!”
“I’m not pretending!” Rose gasped. Seriously? Seriously? “I am being the person I am, the person I was meant to be - before everyone screwed me over and took advantage of me trying to be everyone’s friend!”
“Such a victim, all of the time!” I yelled. “Do you ever realise how self-involved you are? How pathetic it is? Your problems revolve around which boy to choose - and you act like you’re hard done by, when you’re the one who put yourself in that situation!” I groaned. This was ridiculous. This was just insanely ridiculous and not because of this conversation. “You can’t run from your feelings, Rose! You can’t pretend to not feel guilty! You - you-” I had to take a second, to calm myself down. I had to say this. I had to say this properly, for his sake. “- you’ve been lying, for two years about having no memory. Eddie wasn’t dead then. He was ill, but not dead and he deserved to at least know you chose to stay with Harry! You made him give up!”
“Don’t you dare-” My mouth fell open as Rose shoved me angrily. She was not serious. “Blame me for his death. That’s on you. You were so eager to focus on my problems and make yourself look like the golden girl in comparison, that you didn’t know how to be a good friend.”
In fairness, the moment Rose had touched me, I’d began to have an out-of-body experience. I wasn’t in control anymore - not the so-called mature, mellow Soph who balanced out the power-hungry rage monster that had been inside me since God knows when. I wasn’t in control anymore.
I couldn’t take responsibility for what I did next.
Without even thinking about it, I was standing to my full height, glaring up at Rose with a hatred I’d never expected to feel towards her. I was fuming. She hadn’t just lied to me - this wasn’t, despite what she wanted to think, about my bruised ego. She’d lied to everyone - to everyone, to all of the people who’d weaved their lives into the giant lie that had come from us trying to protect her.
How dare she?
“I’m not scared of you.” Rose told me quietly, glaring down at me.
I stepped closer.
“Maybe you should be.” I muttered. “You are not the person I thought you were. My friend isn’t here anymore.”
Rose shrugged. It didn’t even bother her. It didn’t even bother her.
“Whether you think I’m a sucky person or not is your problem, but you owe it to me to keep your mouth shut.” Rose told me, making me gawp at her. Really? I owed her something? She was a lying, conniving bitch who had been manipulating us all for the past two years - and that was a long time to maintain a lie this huge - and I owed her something?
It wasn’t just the anger. I didn’t honestly believe I was just angry. I was hurt, too - betrayed. She’d never told me. She’d never told me about her memories coming back, or even how she felt about me interfering in her life. She hadn’t trusted me enough to tell me the truth when I’d only ever bore my soul to her and that betrayal hurt me so much right now, I wanted to lash out and hurt her - because it was easier to deal with whatever nasty things I’d said, rather than accept that I didn’t think I’d ever be able to trust her again.
“You’re lying. To your friends - forget that, to your husband.” I shook my head. “Harry’s my friend, too. I’m not going to lie to him out of a sick sense of loyalty.”
“Yes, you are!” Rose shouted again, pulling me by the arm before I could leave. I swatted her off. I could hear voices outside the door - clearly, they’d heard shouting and Harry was worried. Hearing the voices too, Rose began to hiss. “Yes, you are. I kept your secret when you were pregnant and you didn’t want Zayn to know, at the risk of my relationship with Harry. I didn’t tell anyone you fell in love with Aman when you were still married to someone else, I have kept your secrets for years when I could have screwed you over the entire time - so you owe me.”
Just like that, something… Left. Something flew right out of me, something that suddenly made it so much easier for me to no longer care.
It’s like flipping a light switch. Just like before.
“So you’re not asking me as a friend.” I nodded, finally understanding. “You’re blackmailing me, as a person. As someone in your way.”
Rose shrugged, her arms folded over her chest.
Wow. Wow, I really hadn’t seen this coming.
“Fine. I’ll cover for you. If I’m asked, I won’t lie, but I’ll cover for you.” I promised, feeling… nothing. Empty. Rose wasn’t my best friend any more - and if I was being honest, she hadn’t been for a long time.
“Good.” Rose said primly, making me roll my eyes as I went to turn away. “And get out of my life, while you’re at it.”
I thought about that for a grand total of, ooh, a second?
“No.” I laughed. “No way in Hell. Just because you’re too weak to admit today, or even tomorrow or the day after that, you need me. You called your three year old girl a bitch today, Rose.” I shook my head. God. God, how had she gotten so twisted? And coming from me, that was saying something. “Just because you’ve forgotten to be a good friend, doesn’t mean I have. I’m not going anywhere.”
“Harry is my husband and Darcy is my daughter!”
“Darcy may be your daughter, but Harry was my friend long before you decided to mess him around!” I snapped. “I’m already lying to him for you, that’s all you’re getting from me.”
Harry had just stepped in, when Rose said it.
“God, I hate you, Soph.”
Only Harry saw how I closed my eyes. In defeat. Because I knew, better than anyone, exactly what she was like - and when she meant it.
I had been so wrong about us.
“What the Hell happened?” Harry asked, looking between us with wide eyes.
“It was my fault. Rose was angry about me not telling her what was going on.” I forced a smile, tried not to notice the lie - lie number one, the beginning of the end of our friendship; and no, that wasn’t just dramatics. Unless Rose told Harry that she had her memories back, our friendship was just going to keep breaking down; and it didn’t look like she was going to be telling the truth anytime soon. “She doesn’t approve of the news.”
“What news?” Harry looked more confused than ever.
I turned to Rose, hoping that, even if she wasn’t the person I knew any more, the next bit stung.
“That I’m pregnant again.” I said, the news sounding… Boring now. Who even cared? “I wanted to tell my best friend, but apparently it didn't quite work that way.”
Rose barely flinched.
“Like I just told her,” Rose said to Harry coolly, staring down her nose at me. Wow, she really wanted to stop doing that before I backhanded her. “She should stop popping them out so quickly. Someone might think she was doing it for the wrong reasons - you know how people have babies just to trap their husbands.”
Ouch. That one hurt.
Was this what I was in for? Jabs about my past from her, constant reminders I was keeping the secret of a clear sociopath?
“Sorry, Harry.” I forced a smile, told myself to play along. I wasn’t going to freak out in front of her. I wasn’t going to give her the satisfaction. “I think I should go.”
“But-” Harry stopped as he hugged me tightly. “Ignore her, Soph, this is great news. You don’t have to go-”
“Trust me, Harry.” I smiled genuinely this time. He deserved more than this - from me and Rose. “I do.”
It was just then that we heard Darcy calling for her mum.
“For God’s sake, Harry, go and deal with her.” Rose snapped, rubbing her temples.
“I’ll go.” I said, before either one of them could say anything. God. God, I wanted to hit her. I wanted to hit her, but I wanted to shake her at the same time and beg her to be the person I’d always thought she was. “And… Listen, I was thinking - send Darcy over for a sleepover sometime soon. Ari and Darcy don’t see one another enough.”
Darcy shouldn’t have to deal with a mother like that.
Maybe Rose was right. Maybe I was an interfering bitch who couldn’t keep her nose to herself - but that was exactly what had gotten Rose happily married to the guy of her dreams. I’d kept my end of the bargain, I’d become the journalist and introduced her to One Direction. Apparently, that was all she’d wanted.
But I’d helped her get her ending. So whether she liked it or not, I was going to make sure Darcy had a chance at that, at least. I knew Rose and her family, I could see the signs - Rose was turning into her mother.
As I hugged Harry goodbye at the doorway, ignoring Kara’s worried expression, I promised to keep an eye on Darcy. For my friend’s sake.
The one I didn’t have any more.
I know it's your story and you can do whatever you want to it, still hurts that I spent so much time shipping the crap out of ZOPH.. I'd read MOD in 2012. Now in 2020 on account of the 10 year anniversary and all I went through the archives to read it all. Broke my heart.. Zayn's character development (regression?). Whatever. This isn't hate, please don't mistake it for hate or anything. I just felt uneasy having something I've shipped for so long just ruined like that. Peace.
Hi! I’m so sorry this is so late!
Honestly... I don’t take this negatively at all. In fact, I take it as a compliment. I remember thinking about writing TR (back in the bloody day, now) and how my biggest fear was that Zoph falling apart wouldn’t seem feasible. I think everyone was a Zoph shipper at one point, myself included; but honestly... I wanted there to be unease at how things moved on.
As much as I was rooting for Zoph in the beginning, I realised there were a lot of things wrong with their relationship, and because of it, the endgame changed. It’s meant to feel uneasy. In the same way Soph fell in love with Zayn (as far as she understood, anyway), and felt confused and lost at how that fell apart... we did too.
My Only Direction: Chapter 11
“Rose, make sure they don’t look pasty in comparison to my sunny complexion.” Harry told Rose airily, admiring her handiwork in the mirror as Rose moved with a rueful smile over to a disgruntled Louis. “Good job.”
Rose allowed herself a small smile as Harry fought his own smile, as they met eyes in the mirror. Harry was notorious for his constant need for perfection when it came to his hair and make-up team and Rose had already been forewarned that getting a compliment out of Harry Edward Styles was as easy as getting blood out of a stone.
Well, apparently rocks could now bleed, Rose thought happily to herself, as she dusted powder on Louis’ scrunched up nose. It was her first day and the actual word “good” had been used in Harry’s compliment. Renee, one of the other make-up artists, had been on the team for more than a year and the maximum Harry had ever given her was “it’s alright”, upon prodding. That was considered the highest compliment he’d ever given.
Until now, Rose thought slightly smugly.
Within ten more minutes, Rose was done and went to join Soph backstage, where she was texting, her legs tucked under her on the sofa.
“Off-duty?” Soph asked, barely glancing up.
“Mhmm.” Rose nodded. The rest of the team had told her that, for her first night, she could watch the show. Rose was pretty sure that nobody enjoyed clean-up but then again, maybe Liam taking Rose out of the room by the hand had something to do with it, the boys rallying beside her.
“Want to see something funny?” Soph sighed as she heaved herself from the low and comfortable black leather sofa, offering out her hand to Rose.
Rose took it and watched her, interested.
Soph walked them over to the outskirts of the stage, from where they could see the audience, an excited buzz echoing through the stadium.
“You got changed.” Rose noted, looking at Soph’s new attire; a pair of dark blue skinny jeans, some beige boots with furry insides and a mustard-coloured, extra large and baggy T-shirt, braving the face of a large grey fox.
“Yeah, after work.” Soph nodded, scouring the crowd, before finding what she was looking for. Rose watched Soph closely. There was something... Different about her tonight. “There.” Soph said triumphantly, nodding to a blonde figure in one of the balconies, watching the stage with a keen, impatient expression.
Rose recognized her instantly.
“But-” Rose gasped, turning to Soph’s grim face as she glowered at the blonde. “Isn’t she – I mean-”
“Zayn’s ho of an ex-girlfriend?” Soph offered. Rose nodded mutely. “Yep, that’s the one.”
“But why?” Rose finally managed to say, feeling confused. “I... Just... She... Why?”
“She says she wants to talk to Zayn after the show.” Soph said darkly. “Something about clearing up any misinterpretations between the two of them.” Soph said the words with such a foul taste in her mouth, she almost spat them in disgust.
“What, you mean like her having her tongue down the throat of another guy?” Rose gaped. “I don’t even know, man, how can you misinterpret something like that?”
Soph just raised one eyebrow, still glaring holes into Dianna’s head, clearly unimpressed.
Rose went to turn away, before stopping and her mouth opening slightly at Soph’s face. She was chewing on her bottom lip thoughtfully, her eyes narrowed as she watched Dianna sit down, smoothing down her skirt. Her lips were a slightly sparkly, light pink and her eyelashes looked longer.
“Nice nails.” Rose managed to say at the unmatching, bright pink nails Soph was sporting. “And are you wearing makeup?”
Soph shrugged.
“Zayn chose the colour earlier.” Soph said absently, tapping her nails on the doorway before turning back to the sofa, Rose watching her, suddenly alert.
“Excuse me?” Rose said after a moment, shaking her head and following Soph back to the sofa.
“Oh.” Soph said, blushing slightly as she realized what she’d just said. “Um, we hung out today.”
“You did?” Rose said slowly.
“But we’re keeping it on the down low.” Soph said pointedly. “Please, Rose, all of the boys already think there’s something strange going on with me and Zayn, I don’t want to add fuel to the fire.”
“And by sneaking around with him, that’s better?” Rose teased, flopping down beside her. “So... What happened today? How the Hell did you end up hanging out? Explain!” Rose demanded.
“Well...” Soph said, a smile spreading across her features. “He came to the Vogue building with my lunch.” Soph glanced at Rose meaningfully. “Pizza. With all my favourite toppings.”
“How did he know?” Rose gasped.
“I asked him that when we went to Haagen Dazs for dessert.” Soph grinned. “He said that just because he hadn’t spoken to me for five months, didn’t mean he hadn’t noticed a few things.”
“He’s so into you.” Rose murmured, shaking her head happily. “So into you.”
“Haha, no, he’s just sweet, that’s all.” Soph laughed, laughing even harder at Rose’s stricken expression. Soph had called Zayn sweet. Jesus take the wheel. “Oh, come on, there must be some redeeming quality in him if Harry is best friends with him, too, right?” Soph thought for a moment. “Odd I never thought it like that before, really.”
“So...” Rose said slowly, too many feelings swimming around in her head. TOO MANY FEELINGS. “Then what happened? Did people notice you in the pizza place?”
“Oh, no, we ate it in a back alley at the top of Regent Street.” Soph said matter-of-factly. “After we bumped into that creep from yesterday-”
“You bumped into him?!” Rose yelped, jumping up and staring down at her best friend. “What? When? What happened?”
“Zayn gave him some pizza, it was all very civil.” Soph replied, the corners of her mouth twitching. “Except for the bit when he threw the pizza on the guy’s shirt, but other than that, it was fine.”
“No!” Rose gasped loudly, slapping her hands over her mouth.
“Yes!” Soph laughed excitedly, standing up. “Oh my God, you should have seen it, the guy was trying to get me to ditch Zayn and have lunch with him-”
“Asshole.” Rose muttered darkly.
“- and he kept going on about how hungry he was and being all weird and sexual and innuendo-ey and then Zayn was like, HAVE SOME PIZZA ON ME and BOOM he had pizza all over his shirt and, Rose,” Soph allowed herself to do a jerky, weird victory dance, pumping her fists. “IT WAS SO AWESOME!” Soph let out in a strangled cry of joy.
“Oh my GOD, right on his shirt?” Rose whispered, holding Soph’s hand tightly. Soph nodded, grinning. “Then what?”
“Right, yeah, okay, so then he was like Soph, let’s go, but I didn’t get it but then I did and so he kind of... I don’t know, escorted me away from that asshole because he was all in my face and we crossed the road and then he couldn’t believe I still wanted dessert and then he took me anyway and then we went shopping-”
“You went shopping?” Rose repeated, her brain unable to keep up with the rapid Soph and Zayn love going on.
“Mhmm, and then this lady offered to do my nails and Zayn got all interested because I’d made him buy so many new clothes-”
“Wait, you were shopping for HIM?” Rose yelled, a hand on her heart. She was about to have a coronary. There was going to be scratching teeth and everything.
“Yeah, I mean seriously, there are only so many varsity jackets a boy can have.” Soph told her, wrinkling her nose, in the exact same way she would have told Zayn, Rose knew, something which automatically made her smile. “We just got him some normal clothes. You know, jeans, a couple of V-necks, Converses, because God knows his wardrobe needs them.” Soph shook her head. “There was an awkward moment when we passed the Marvel underwear and we both wanted to check, but we passed it.”
“Oh, my God, I would have so loved it if you’d bought something.” Rose giggled.
“Wait, what?” Soph said confusedly. “No, he got the Iron Man boxer briefs.”
Rose couldn’t help but let out the high-pitched hoot of laughter. This was just all too much. It was ALL TOO MUCH.
Rose could only listen, her ears ringing slightly with joy, as Soph continued to tell her a word-by-word play of what had happened. They’d shopped, they’d hung out for a while in Starbucks. There were even a load of blurry pictures of Zayn and Soph both acting like utter fools, which Soph had apparently been sorting through when Rose had walked in.
But, from what Rose could gather, the most important thing was that they’d talked.
Zayn was freaking out big-time about Dianna coming to the show tonight, something Rose could at least somewhat understand. The last time he’d seen her, she’d had her tongue down another man’s throat, in a restaurant full of busy people. From what Soph and Rose knew, he’d ignored her messages, which were probably trying to cover up her tracks. She’d known that Zayn had seen her when Soph had told her God knew what.
Soph and Rose were deep in thought, their heads full of theories about what Dianna could want, when Zayn walked in.
“You alright, ladies?” Zayn said politely, Rose grinning as she saw his eyes linger on Soph’s face slightly. Soph had told her how they’d already both decided to ease into their friendship in front of the others. Not only was their random bonding something they didn’t really understand, but also, Soph wanted to tell Harry about that creep her own way, instead of upsetting him.
So Zayn had no idea that Rose knew. Which, for some reason, made Rose feel epic.
“What’re you wearing?” Rose suddenly blurted out, as Soph’s eyes widened, covering her mouth with her hand as she tried to stifle a laugh.
“What?” Zayn asked innocently, looking down at himself. He was wearing a pair of bog-standard blue jeans, some tattered trainers of his and a deep green T-shirt with Mr T’s face on it in cartoon, the caption reading “Quit Your Jibba Jabba Fool”. Zayn’s eyes flickered towards Soph as the corners of his mouth twitched. “I bought it today.” Zayn looked at Soph, fighting the urge to laugh loudly. “What do you think, Soph?”
“I think it’s lovely.” Soph told him, unable to stop the smile on her face from showing.
“Normal clothes?” Rose muttered under her breath at Soph, as Soph and Zayn grinned at each other. “Really? Those are normal clothes?”
Soph just grinned at her best friend.
The rest of the boys filtered in then, as Zayn put on his varsity jacket of the evening, a green affair which he buttoned to the very top, hiding his T-shirt from the crowd.
“What is up with your T-shirt?” Harry asked slowly, stopping as he chewed his gum, seeing Zayn button himself up.
“What’s wrong with it?” Zayn asked defensively.
“Nothing.” Louis muttered, the boys peering at Zayn. “It’s brilliant.”
Soph grinned slyly at Rose, who just shook her head at her best friend, grinning to herself as Zayn and Soph smiled at each other from across the room, before Rose’s eyes caught Liam’s smouldering ones and her heart stopped.
The show was brilliant, as usual.
Soph glanced at Zayn continuously throughout the show, a concentrated expression on her face, as she glanced between Zayn and Dianna. Dianna was cheering him on happily in the crowd, ignoring the fact that Zayn was desperate not to make eye contact to her.
It was just as the boys were wrapping up I Should Have Kissed You (to many screams of delight), when Rose nudged Soph, just about to bear tearing her eyes away from Liam.
“Soph, who’s that next to Dianna?” Rose muttered, as the music stopped, signalling the boys to come traipsing in.
Soph felt herself go sick to her stomach as she recognized the blonde tramp from the restaurant, with the blonde tramp she’d been kissing.
“Rose, can I borrow you for a second?” Liam asked innocently, taking Rose gently by the wrist before she could respond.
Zayn ran back in, the last one in and before Soph could stop herself, she’d placed a hand on his arm, still peering into the crowd with disbelief.
Zayn glanced up at Soph sharply at the contact, despite the thick layering his T-shirt and jacket provided him with.
Soph stopped for a moment, her eyes widening as she glanced at her hand, clutching Zayn’s bicep, to Zayn’s face. Quickly, she dropped her hand.
“Zayn.” She said quickly, looking back into the crowd. “Zayn, look who she’s with.”
Zayn and Soph started muttering between the two of them, Zayn surprisingly calm as he informed her he’d seen Dianna and her new partner from the stage.
They were so engrossed in their conversation, that they didn’t notice Harry glance over at them and double-take, his happy expression slipping away as he saw them both whispering together, Zayn’s head slightly inclined and bent down so he could hear Soph properly.
Meanwhile, Liam had led Rose to the corridor.
“So, um, what’s up?” Rose asked, her heartbeat stuttering irregularly in her chest.
“No, my hair is just getting in my face, help me out?” Liam smiled nicely, disappointment making Rose’s heart drop.
“Uh, yeah, sure.” Rose muttered, heading into the empty dressing room and going straight for the hairspray. Screw this bullshit. Lucky Soph got all the fun, Rose thought wryly.
That was until she felt Liam’s warm body behind her.
Within seconds, he’d whipped her around, his body pressed fiercely tight against hers.
There was a small moment, where Liam looked down at Rose, with the softest expression.
But then it was gone as he pressed his lips fiercely against hers, smashing their mouths together and before Rose knew what she was doing, she had her fingers tangled in his hair, his hands gripping her stomach tightly under her thin black T-shirt, her legs winding around his waist as he set her on the worktop, consequences and Ryan be damned.
The boys returned onstage within a few moments and Rose came back into the room, her cheeks flushed.
“What happened to you?” Soph asked distractedly, watching Zayn. He was too calm, she thought. For somebody who had felt so confused and lost earlier, he was way too calm.
Rose just shook her head, smiling to herself. It was too soon.
Liam was an amazing kisser, let’s just put it to that. And boy, did he know how to work a girl up quickly.
A few more songs passed, before Tell Me A Lie.
“Can’t ever get it right,” Liam began to sing, smirking slightly as Rose blushed, both of them knowing how wrong that was. “No matter how hard I try and I try...”
Soph bit the nail of her thumb carefully as Zayn came onstage, a presence about him that hadn’t been there before.
“Well, I put up a good fight, but your words cut like knives... And I’m tired.” Soph frowned as she felt pity, watching Zayn close his eyes briefly and smile to himself as his words hit home. “As you break my heart again this time...”
The music began to build slowly and Soph watched as the conviction grew in Zayn’s eyes, as he sang with the boys;
“Tell me I’m a screwed up mess, that I never listen, listen. Tell me you don’t want my kiss, that you made your distance, distance, tell me everything but don’t you say he’s what your missing baby, he’s the reason that you’re leaving me tonight, spare me what you’re thinking...” Soph bit on the flesh of her thumb, a proud smile spreading across her face as Zayn looked Dianna dead in the eye, her face shocked, as he sang; “Tell me a lie.”
Soph and Rose couldn’t help but almost burst with pride as Liam and Harry sang their verses, the chorus sang with such conviction from all of the boys, knowing who was watching them and what she was doing to Zayn, that the crowd went wild.
Zayn held his high note perfectly towards the end, almost entirely at ease and as he sang his solo version of the chorus, he rang with a confidence that let Soph know he’d be okay. Because even though it didn’t make a difference to her whether Zayn got through this or not, it did make a difference to everybody else. And more than that, it made a difference to Dianna.
And God knew that bitch needed a telling.
Sometime later, once Rose and Soph had stopped screaming at the victory that was the silent Zayn/Dianna eye battle (Zayn had won, before Dianna had walked out, holding the hand of the aforementioned trampy drug dealer), the show took a pause.
Since their first tour, the boys had upheld the tradition of making every concert a different, unique experience for the fans.
And that included DJ Malik and DJ Tommo.
“I’d like to dedicate this special song to a new friend of mine.” Zayn told the audience, feeling the back of his new T-shirt stick to his back under the heat of the stage lights. “We didn’t know we were going to be friends, but she’s really helped me out today and so this is for her.”
The crowd screamed in such a high-pitch, Zayn temporarily went deaf. They’d noticed the use of the word “her”, then.
A beat-less version of Milkshake began to play, before the music picked up, in the form of Usher’s “Yeah”.
Soph laughed, thinking only of Mo’s strange dance moves, Rose biting her lip as Liam stood at the side, smirking at her from the stage.
As usual, the show ended spectacularly, with – of course – no other than What Makes You Beautiful, as per tradition. The show marked the first of the boys’ comeback tour. There were a few more in London, before they started travelling up North and after that, from Ireland onwards. Soph felt slightly sad, as the boys ran into the small antechamber backstage, screaming and shouting from their adrenaline rush.
Soph wouldn’t be going on tour with the boys, like Rose was. Even though Soph was technically covering the entirety of the boys’ comeback, thanks to their publicist’s exclusive deal with the Vogue House in Hanover Square, she wasn’t travelling. The other Vogue correspondents in each different country would do their own cover and, as of today, Soph was going to be overlooking everything 1D related.
Yeah. Lauren had dropped that bombshell on her today, when she’d returned from her seriously prolonged extra lunch break with Zayn. Lauren had been waiting in her office for Soph. Soph had been expecting at least some type of verbal warning, but instead, Lauren had told her she wanted Soph to overlook the 1D team and the Vogue team had arranged.
Soph had, obviously, been utterly lost for words.
Lauren had gone on to explain that Soph clearly had a good connection to the boys and whilst she’d love it for Soph to be her fly on the wall, she knew that would be compromising Soph’s principles as clearly a member of the 1D family.
Lauren had told her that, as Soph probably knew them better than most, she would therefore be helping them regain their image, as the boyband who had left at the very top.
“And,” Lauren had added. “I’m also doing this because I want an invite to your and Zayn’s wedding.”
Soph had forced herself to laugh at that, despite how weird she found it.
She hadn’t told the boys yet. Soph had explained to Lauren that she wasn’t able to travel very much out of London, due to family commitments. Lauren had explained to her that whilst that would usually be a factor, Soph’s close relationship to the boys (either Lauren was assuming a lot from Zayn, or she knew more than she was meant to be letting on, Soph had thought) outweighed that. Anyway, with Vogue London being the header, it didn’t matter very much, as long as Soph started using a company BlackBerry, which she kept on at all times.
The American Vogue House had wanted the 1D story. As the boys had moved out to LA for a year or so before they’d taken their break, they thought they had more resources to cover the story. That and with 1D being signed to Columbia, one of the biggest record companies out there exempt Hollywood Records, the Disney company, America had been desperate to get the story.
But apparently, after consulting the boys, they’d all decided they wanted everything to come from where it had started – home, in England.
In fact, Soph had found out afterwards that her first interview and meeting with the boys was actually the trial session, to see if they’d made the right choice.
And even though Lauren didn’t say it, Soph got the feeling Lauren had brought that to mind when she’d made her decision.
“Great show.” Rose told Harry confidently, with a smile. Rose realized Harry was sort of her boss now. Weird.
“I had a feeling you’d say that.” Harry said wryly, fighting a smirk. He leant down, his breath brushing against the nape of Rose’s neck and she almost shuddered from the heat. “Next time you start having a tonsil tennis tournament with Liam, you may want to close the door properly.”
“Oh my God.” Rose muttered, her face instantly flushing a deep red. “Oh my God, Harry, I-”
“Don’t worry about it.” Harry laughed, leaning against the wall with Rose and folding his arms casually over his chest. “Haven’t you got a boyfriend, though?”
It was like a slap in the face.
And the worst part was, was that Rose knew Harry probably hadn’t meant it to be.
“Sorry.” Harry said quickly, straightening up slightly, apparently noticing the distraught look on Rose’s face. Oh God. She’d been so wrapped up in her little world, in this universe where One Direction were the entire centre of her universe, she’d forgotten that she had a boyfriend. And that she’d just cheated on him. “I didn’t mean it like that. I should have just kept my mouth shut.”
“No, no, its fine, I needed to hear it.” Rose mumbled, covering her face with her hands as the familiar sting of tears began to grow behind her eyes. “Oh my God, how could I forget something like that?”
Harry stood there quietly for a moment, the room full of staff and family members. Rose and Harry were at the side and, even though he knew Liam would be looking for her, Harry wanted to take Rose away for a moment. If she’d just realized what she’d done, the last person she’d want to see was Liam.
“What are you going to do?” Harry asked, standing in front of her, sounding genuinely concerned.
“Oh God, I don’t know.” Rose said, stopping the tears about to run down her face by placing a finger under her eye, her voice thick with tears. She looked up at Harry tearfully. “What would you do?”
Harry thought for a moment.
“Honestly?” Harry asked. Rose nodded. “I wouldn’t tell your boyfriend.”
Rose gasped.
“It depends.” Harry shrugged. “If this thing with Liam is for real, then tell your boyfriend now and get it over and done with. But if this is just you getting caught up in this massive craziness, then it’s not worth losing somebody you love over.” Harry tried to give Rose an encouraging smile. “Nobody would blame you if you wanted to stay with your boyfriend, you know.” Harry shrugged. “It’s easy to get caught up in all of this.”
“But... How...” Rose shook her head, fighting the urge to burst into a fit of tears. “How can I even make a choice like that? Everything is moving so fast.”
“Maybe you can’t make it yet.” Harry said seriously, kicking the floor absent-mindedly, watching as he scuffed his shoes. “Maybe you never should have had to in the first place.”
Rose glanced up at that, but Harry kept staring at the floor.
“I have to go and talk to Soph, are you going to be alright?” Harry asked seriously. Rose nodded, Harry’s words bouncing around in her head. “See you later.” Harry said with a small smile, before heading away.
“Rose!” Louis shouted, running over as Harry disappeared into the crowded room. “What’re you doing over there? Come on!” Louis dragged her into the crowd as Rose covered her upset face with a big smile, Harry’s words making her feel sick.
“You got a minute?”
“Yeah, sure.” Soph smiled, following Harry out of the room and into the corridor. “What’s up?”
“Soph, what’s going on with you and Zayn?”
“Nothing.” Soph said immediately, cringing at how false it sounded.
“I know what happened at Shazia’s.” Harry interrupted. “And I know you were going to tell me and if I see that prick, I’ll happily clobber him, but right now, I want to know what’s going on with you and Zayn.”
“Harry-” Soph began, not sure how to explain something she didn’t understand herself, but Harry interrupted her.
“If there’s nothing wrong, go and argue with him.” Harry told her, crossing his arms resolutely. “Prove it.”
Just as Harry expected, Soph’s temper flared.
“Fine!” She snapped, before storming back into the backstage room, Zayn unluckily going to walk out at the same moment. “Malik, do you honestly have no sense of direction?”
For the briefest of moments, Zayn’s face flickered with confusion, but, upon seeing Harry, Zayn instantly knew what was going on.
“It’s not my fault you find yourself incapable of walking in a straight line.” Zayn retorted, crossing his arms defensively, Soph’s fists balled at her sides.
“Oh, you know what?” Soph growled, stepping forward towards Zayn threateningly, Zayn squaring up, too, both of them now furious and neither of them knowing why.
“I KNEW it!” Harry yelled, pumping his fist in the air. Soph and Zayn snapped out of it and turned to him curiously.
“What?” Soph demanded. “We’re arguing, aren’t we?”
“No, you’re not.” Harry grinned, slinging an arm around each of their shoulders. “I saw that look. I saw it.”
“What the fuck are you on about?” Zayn asked irritably, already in a filthy mood thanks to Dianna.
“Don’t worry.” Harry told them, grinning cockily now. “I won’t tell.”
And with that, Harry left.
Soph and Zayn stood there, seriously confused for a moment, before turning to each other.
“What?” Soph demanded, seeing Zayn stare at her.
“What?” Zayn shouted, just as angrily back, before they both stormed off in opposite directions. Soph bumped into Harry’s shoulder as she entered the small antechamber again, Harry smiling victoriously.
Because what was going on between Zayn and Soph was clearly not nothing.
hi! this is the anon from before who was asking about the my only direction chapters! sorry, I found the rest of the series in the archive (which was ofc the last place i looked AFTER sending my ask) all except for chapter 11 of mod. hope you don't mind uploading it when you have the chance! thanks again :)
Hi!
I actually... Had no idea this was missing, so I will look into it ASAP for you. I’ll aim to have it done before Christmas!
Happy reading! It makes me smile to think people are still enjoying it :)

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Baby It’s Cold Outside
“Harry, just admit it. We’re lost.”
“We’re not lost.”
“Harry, we’re lost!”
“We’re not lost!”
“Harry!” I shrieked, slapping my bare legs and instantly regretting it. OW. “We are lost, we have been driving around what may as well be a desert-”
“We’re in England, there’s no comparison.” Harry muttered off-handedly.
“- for nearly two hours, you have no idea where you’re going AND we’re going to be late to Mrs Malik’s Christmas party!”
“Rose!” Harry yelled, looking at me. “We’re not l-”
We both stopped, hearing a weird sound coming from... Oh, no wait –
“Harry, please tell me the car is meant to make that noise and I’m just not used to it because we only use surfboards in Australia.” I muttered, clutching the door. This wasn’t happening. This was not happening, no way, NO WAY WAS THIS HAPPENING –
Of course, that was the exact moment the car decided to stop.
As if things could not get ANY WORSE! It was bad enough that I was going to see Liam at this stupid party, for the first time since... Well, everything. Not to mention I’d barely seen any of the boys anyway, PLUS the fact that Soph was coming with her parents and Adam, so was going to be freaking out about them behaving with the added pressure of her refusing to acknowledge her and Zayn were made for each other, BEING ENGAGED AND ALL, with the even greater added drama of being not only stuck in a car with Harry, of all people, Mr Strange himself, but totally avoiding Australia for Christmas not out of choice (though, to be fair, I’d been planning on Christmassing in London anyway this year), but because my family were evil and had invited Ryan over for the holidays, because my mom didn’t want me to die alone.
What even.
“Rose, I have to tell you something.” Harry told me to break the silence and the mental screaming of me as I totally freaked. “We’ve ran out of petrol.”
Lies. It was all lies. I squeezed my eyes shut and pretended I couldn’t hear it.
“Not happening.” I muttered to myself. “Not happening, not happening, not happening.”
“And we’ve got none spare in this car.”
“So not happening.” I repeated. It was like a mantra. The more I said it, the more it was meant to work, right? “So not happening, so not happening...”
“And we’re lost.”
“What are you, mentally deficient?!” I yelled, whacking Harry as hard in the arm as I could. And no, this was no time to fangirl. I was way over that. With Harry, anyway. Our first meeting had been false bloody advertising, okay? FALSE ADVERTISING. “I’ve been trying to tell you that for the past CENTURY and NOW you admit that we’re lost, when we’re in-” I looked outside, only to be greeted by the bleak landscape of... Nothing. Just one single road and fucking grass. THIS. WAS NOT. HAPPENING. “- where the Hell even ARE we?!”
“Um...” Harry coughed awkwardly. “I dunno, the Tom-Tom’s not working.”
“The Tom- it’s not – the Tom-Tom’s not-” I took a deep breath. I would not lose it. I mean, it was only a Christmas party. With everyone I knew. And a paranoid Liam. And a freaking out best friend, Soph and her relatively evil, though albeit sexy, fiance Zayn, in Zayn’s home, who, by the way was a member of ONE DIRECTION AND... Calm. Calm, happy thoughts. “Harry.” I said in a dangerously low voice. “I think I’m going to stab you to death with my eyeliner.”
“I can check the boo-”
“Don’t open the door!” I yelled, practically falling onto Harry’s lap to stop him from opening the door. I looked up at him from his lap, feeling my eye beginning to twitch. Somebody had to die, okay? And soon. “We don’t have any goddamn gas and it’s practically zero degrees out there, so we can’t warm up again and YOU may be used to living in fucking Antarctica, but I come from a place where we have chilled fruit juice this time of year to celebrate the yuletide festivities, so unless you want me to slowly freeze to the same temperature as my ice cold heart and take you down with me, DON’T FUCKING MOVE.”
Slowly, Harry released the door handle, keeping it closed.
“You haven’t got an ice cold heart.”
“Harry, SHUT UP!” I practically screamed. I would not cry. I would not cry, I wouldn’t. Urgh, why was every kind of strong emotion – not even all strong – connected to my tear ducts? “Oh my God, I have no signal. Perfect. Do you?”
“My phone battery died three hours ago.” Harry told me slowly. “I was going to charge it at Zayn’s.”
“Well, do you remember going past any signs?” I asked desperately. I had to be logical. For God’s sake, what use was a psychology degree now if I couldn’t subliminally remember... Shit and whatever? I knew I should have taken journalism. Never did Soph any bad. What was I saying? I loved psychology and – OFF THE POINT.
“No, I was driving.” Harry said slowly. “Did you?”
“Harry, I was doing my eyeliner.” I snapped. “What do you think?”
“I thought girls were meant to be the multi-taskers?” I glowered as Harry’s mouth began to twitch into a smile. “Sorry. Guess not all of them.”
“Do you have a death wish?”
“Oh, c’mon, it could be worse.” Harry nudged me as I retreated to my seat, realizing I was still sprawled across Harry’s lap. I edged as far away from him as I could and let me tell you, in this car? Extremely possible. Mercedes cars were spacious things, especially this baby. “Rose, cheer up! At least you’re stuck in a car with me and not some rapist.”
“Same thing.” I muttered under my breath. “Harry, what are we meant to do? Everybody is expecting us, they’ll think this is on purpose!”
“What, breaking down in the middle of nowhere?” Harry looked at me. “Liam won’t think that, if that’s what you’re talking about.”
“It’s not!” I said immediately, sounding guilty, even to my hopeful self. “It’s not. “ I said, calmer this time. “I mean, Soph. She needs me. What if she thinks I flaked out, huh?”
“She’s my best friend, too, you know, give me a bit more credit.” Harry sniffed, folding his arms across his chest. “She won’t think that. Anyway, she’ll be with Zayn.”
“Precisely.” I said pointedly. “Oh my God, what are we going to do?”
Harry didn’t reply. Clearly, he was lacking in brain cells. Well, at least if he didn’t have anything intelligent to say, he wasn’t saying anything at all.
I hoped.
I pressed my hands to my hair, trying not to ruin it, though. This sucked. Not only was I in the middle of nowhere in a country I had only just called home, but I had no jacket. That was what I got for relying on the 21st century and not being a medieval peasant with layering.
Not to mention how my dress was utterly WASTED. And it was so pretty, too! It was this gorgeous white one-shoulder thing, with this really cute purple pattern at the waist and – well, it didn’t matter now, did it? The only person who was seeing it was HARRY. And I didn’t care what Harry thought. The only reason we ever really spoke, was Soph. And that was only because she was our mutual best friend.
Like I cared what Harry thought about my dress. I already knew Liam would like it. Liam liked everything I wore.
Harry. Whatever.
“Rose, what’s going on with you and Liam?” Harry asked suddenly, breaking what seemed like another silence, but what was really just me yelling at myself in my head. I shut my mouth. Tightly. I didn’t want to have this conversation with Harry, of all people, but I knew he’d make it really easy for me to talk. “Are you still together?”
“We’re just...” I cleared my throat, not meeting his eyes. “We’re going through a rough patch.”
“Rose, I-”
“We’ll fix it, okay?” I muttered, pretending to go through my clutch and trying to blink away the tears. No way. I’d spent a goddamn decade on just my mascara. “It’s just a rough patch, we’ll get through it, we always d-” I stopped and closed my eyes as I felt Harry’s hand on my bare shoulder, comforting me. “We’ll be fine.” I whispered, biting my lip and trying not to cry. No. NO.
“Rose...”
“Look, I don’t need you to tell me Liam and I aren’t in a good place right now, okay? I know that. Trust me, I know that.” I put my head in my hands, feeling the anger disappear. Who was I trying to kid? I wasn’t angry, I was sad. I was sad and I was hurt. “I just don’t know what I did wrong, you know? I- I thought everything was going so well and then he just... I don’t know, I just don’t know what I did wrong.”
“Rose, you didn’t do anything.” Harry told me vehemently, unbuckling his seatbelt and leaning forward. I snorted. The sad thing was, I knew Harry well enough to know he wasn’t even lying to make me feel better. He genuinely believed it. “It wasn’t you, trust me.”
“Why?” I asked, looking up at him and placing a finger under my eye to make sure my make-up didn’t run. I laughed dryly. “What, you can read minds now? Or he said something to you?” I stopped, seeing Harry’s face darken. “Oh my God, he said something to you? What did he say? It’s my fault, isn’t it? I’ve done something?”
“No.” Harry ran a finger through his curls and I wondered what it felt like. Soph had told me Harry’s hair was soft and bouncy, for what it was worth. Or maybe I’d had one too many glasses of wine when I’d been getting dressed earlier. “Rose, no.”
“Well than, what is it?” I asked, getting annoyed now. “Harry, if you know something, tell me! Can’t you see how much I’m freaking out!”
“It’s not something you’ve done.” Harry told me gently, his eyebrows furrowed in what I knew was a mixture of hesitance and internal debate and not just general confusion like everyone thought. What? I’d been studying Harry as a specimen for long enough, even before I’d gotten over my fangirling and thought he would be my husband. But hey, if one of us had to get married to the guy of our dreams out of me and Soph, I was glad Soph had. I had my guy Sort of. “It’s more... What he’s afraid you’ll do.”
“That makes no sense.” I told Harry bluntly. “Harry, please, just put me out of my misery. Oh my God, if you know something and don’t tell me and I carry on, it’ll kill me.”
Harry just shook his head.
Urgh, what was his problem? See, this was something I didn’t get about Harry. He was a great guy; in theory. He was fun and at least relatively smart, not to mention handsome and witty and a good friend, but a good brother, too. Yet when you got to know him? He had the emotional depth of a goldfish, okay? Not even because he was a heartless bastard. I mean, if that were true, it’d be easy to fix. Sure, he was the evil guy of the situation, but you could empathize or whatever goddamn well else. But that wasn’t it. Harry was just so guarded, all the time and for no reason. He just... Never opened up. No matter how hard you tried, nothing. I mean, was it really that bad to own up to someone? And it wasn’t like he was a total robot, because between Soph and Zayn, they usually got the full picture, but with anybody else, even asking if he was okay turned into a mission. He could laugh and joke as much as he liked but we all knew he was just trying to hide the fact he was human. I mean, since when was being insecure – if it was just that – an excuse to be totally emotionally void? It wasn’t. And that was what made me so confused.
“I can’t believe you.” I muttered, before staring at him, my voice rising. “I can’t believe you! You know what is potentially destroying my and Liam’s relationship and you’re just sitting there? Letting it happen? What, do you enjoy this?”
“I enjoy it, yeah, but I don’t enjoy seeing you hurt!” Harry suddenly said angrily, making me shut up in surprise. Um, what? “Rose, don’t you get it? Everybody else knows what’s going on and you just sit there! Do you just not care that you’re killing me?”
I stared at him.
“On what fucking planet does me and Liam having issues anything to do with your emotional wellbeing?” I asked, staring at him. He was clearly insane. It explained everything. HE WAS INSANE. “You can’t care that much, you won’t even try and help, I mean-” I stopped. Oh no. “Oh my God, is it because Liam thinks he’s better off without me? Is that it? So you’re just letting it peeter out, because he doesn’t want to DUMP me?”
“Rose...” Harry sighed, rubbing his face. “It’s not like that.”
“What else am I supposed to think when you’re not telling me anything?” I demanded, staring at him expectantly for an answer. But I got nothing back. Except silence. “Whatever, I’m going for a walk.”
“It’s cold outside, Rose.” Harry told me seriously, locking the doors. “You can’t go out there, it’s dangerous.” He even had the audacity to crack a grin. “Baby, it’s cold outside.”
“You can’t lock me in here, that’s kidnap!” I yelled, unbuckling my seatbelt and trying to snatch the keys. Harry just looked at me and put them in his trouser pocket. “Are you serious? Do you honestly hate me that much?”
“What?”
“You heard me!” I yelled angrily, slumping back into my chair in defeat. “I know that you hate me, okay? I know that you have ever since Soph asked if I could ever be interested in you-”
“Rose, I do NOT hate you-”
“- but, really, considering everything else, you’d think you’d let that go, I mean, COME ON, you were fine with me before, just recently it’s like you’ve had a head transplant and you know what? I’m sick of it, sick, sick of it, because what have I ever done to you, huh? I adored you before I even knew you, I didn’t realize that was a BAD thing, I’m so sorry for being a fan! I just don’t understand how you can hate Liam enough to watch this relationship turn into a trainwreck, I mean, I get you don’t want to make me happy, but come on! Is this really-”
That was when Harry decided to shut me up.
By kissing me.
And oh my God, I can’t believe it, but I actually kissed him back.
I don’t know how it happened, honestly, I don’t. But one minute, we were just sitting there, arguing (okay, so it wasn’t really arguing, it was me yelling at him) and then the next... The next Harry had my face in his hands and he was kissing me, roughly but softly at the same time, urgently and...
And I was kissing him back.
I don’t know how long we were doing that for, but I’m not going to lie and say it wasn’t a long time.
“Rose-”
And then I did something truly horrible.
I pulled his face back to mine and kissed him back.
In the small, though still sane, part of my brain I had left, I was freaking out. What was I doing? I was kissing Harry. On my way to see Liam. When things were difficult, but that was no excuse! What was I doing?? I was risking any chance of happiness I’d ever have and for what, to be another one of Harry’s conquests?
But I knew Harry too well to believe even for a second that that was true.
Who was I trying to kid? I had never left those feelings of utter adoration for Harry behind and whilst these past few months I’d just put it down to my fan obsession from years ago and it was just a force of habit, I couldn’t lie anymore! I’d told Soph about the amount of times I’d found Harry staring at me, or muttering angrily with Liam – especially recently – and just... Being there for me. For no reason. Just being there. I mean, what about the time he’d blown off his date with that – and I quote – “hot older woman” to sit with me and watch Titanic for the billionth time because I was having a particular bad period and Soph was working late?
Oh my God, what was I doing.
Oh my God, why was I enjoying it??
I don’t know how things escalated. But I wasn’t just kissing him anymore, I was straddling him – on his lap – and his hands were firm on my waist and we were kissing each other like we wouldn’t be able to breathe otherwise and I was clutching his shirt because I didn’t want him to let go and I was helping him shrug off his blazer and running my fingers through his hair and GOD, his hair was so soft, just like I’d imagined and – and, oh my God – and Harry’s hands were running over my breasts through the fabric of my dress and my hand was snaking into his trousers and this was way better than anything I’d ever done with Liam and -
“What am I doing?” I gasped, pulling my mouth away from Harry’s but otherwise not moving away at all. “Harry, what are we doing?”
“Keeping each other warm.” Harry grinned, going to kiss me again... Before his grin faded. “I don’t know.” And that was when realization hit Harry too. “Oh my God, Rose, I’m so sorry.”
“This is what Liam was scared of.” I whispered, before sliding off of Harry’s lap and getting back into my own seat. I felt so cheap and dirty and... No, I didn’t. But I knew that was what I should be feeling. But I wasn’t and that just made it worse. “Wasn’t it? Of us doing this?”
Harry looked torn about whether or not to tell me; but by the time he slowly nodded his head, I already knew.
Oh my God.
Oh my God.
I felt Harry’s hand on my shoulder, massaging softly, as I put my head in my hands. Oh my God.
“We’ll get through this, Rose, I prom-”
“Us? There is no us!” I yelled, sitting up and staring at him accusingly. This was all of his fault! How could he have – how – you don’t just – KISS people like that! “I am Liam’s girlfriend!” I shoved him with each word, feeling water build in my eyes. “I-am-Liam’s-girlfriend-I’m-”
“Rose, no, don’t cry.” Harry pleaded, sighing and trying to pull me close. I batted him away. I couldn’t have him touching me. Then again, what difference would it make after what we’d just done? Oh God! “Rose, please-”
“He’s one of your best friends, how can you do this to him?” I shouted tearfully, trying to ignore that it was my fault, too. Probably more mine than Harry’s. Because if I was as committed to Liam as I thought I was, I wouldn’t have even ever thought about running my fingers through Harry’s hair, let alone kissing him. “How? What kind of a friend are you?”
“Rose, you kissed me back!” Harry reminded me, his voice rising.
“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” I told him icily. I had to pretend like this had never happened. I had to pretend like this was not okay and him kissing me again was the furthest thing from my mind.
“Rose, I was here, I was the one you were kissing, you kissed me back!” Harry shouted, slapping the steering wheel loudly. “You can’t lie to my face! Rose, you have feelings for me-”
“I only did it because you’re Harry Styles, nothing else.” I lied, trying to sound strong. And I did. Just... Not enough.
“Bullshit.” Harry snorted angrily.
“I don’t have feelings for you, I just wanted to see if you were playing me or not!”
“Bullshit!” Harry yelled, staring at me, full of anger and... Hurt. I felt my argument disappear as I saw the hurt in his eyes. “Rose, why are you doing this? Why are you pretending that what just happened didn’t just happen?”
“Because if I just admit I kissed you back, I’ve just cheated on my boyfriend!” I yelled tearfully, wiping angrily at my face. Fuck my make-up, nobody was going to see it anyway and Harry didn’t count, because we’d been practically grinding all over each other two seconds ago! “What does that make me, Harry? That makes me a slut!”
“Rose.” Harry’s face softened and that only made more tears fall. “Rose, no, you could never be-”
“Don’t, okay?” I sniffled. “Please. Just don’t.”
“I’ll wait.” Harry told me quietly, watching me seriously. “For however long it takes.”
“I don’t want you to!” I shouted. “You can’t, okay? I don’t want you to. Isn’t it going to kill Liam enough if he ever finds out? I don’t even know if I have it in me to tell him, I...” I closed my eyes. “I don’t know.”
We were both silent for a moment. Oh God. What if I hadn’t thought of Liam while we’d been kissing? Would we be having sex right now? Would my hand be down his trousers and would his be up my skirt?
And why did I want that?!
“I think I should go for a walk.” Harry said finally. I barely heard him.
“It’s cold outside.” I muttered, turning my back on him and curling up in the seat. I watched his reflection, pretending I was watching the sky outside my window instead.
“Not as cold as it is in here.” Harry muttered, but he didn’t move.
I must have fallen asleep, because I woke up a little while later, Harry’s blazer was thrown carefully over me and Harry had turned towards his window, too. He’d turned the light off and it was three minutes past midnight.
I sat there for a moment, watching what other variation of wet weather England was dishing out.
This was such a mess.
I got up and leant over to look at Harry. He was sleeping peacefully, his cheek showing a dried track-mark from a tear. I felt my eyes well up again. This wasn’t his fault. Harry would never have kissed me, especially under the circumstances, if he hadn’t been 100% sure I’d kiss him back.
Or would he?
I didn’t know anymore.
Hesitantly, I leant over and kissed him on the cheek, my lips catching the side of his mouth. My dark red lipstick left a mark and I stroked his cheek gently as I tried to smudge it off. Even asleep, he looked restless.
“Merry Christmas, Harry.” I whispered, crawling back up in my own seat again.
His reply was so quiet, I wasn’t sure if I’d even heard it at all.
“Merry Christmas, Rose.” And then, more definitely, more confidently; “And your present is that I’m not giving up.”
And no matter how screwed up this evening had been, somehow, that one line still managed to make me smile.
And when I heard the gentle creak of Harry turning and when his hand found mine, one arm wrapped around my waist over his blazer, I was glad it was cold outside. Because no matter how cold it was going to get out there, I had Harry to keep me warm.
All I Want For Christmas Is You
“Soph! Can you come down for a moment, please? Your father is calling you!”
“Down in a sec!” I yelled back, closing my bedroom door again, so I could say my goodbyes to Rose. “Okay, drive safe and text me, alright? I want to know how everything goes. I’ve got to go, my parents want me.”
“Alright. I’ll talk to you later, bye!”
I hung up and head downstairs, throwing my phone onto the bed before I did.
“What’s up?” I asked, walking into the dining room. Mum and Dad were sitting at the end of the table, a cup of tea each and a packet of biscuits between them.
“Sit down.” Dad told me, a small, smug smile on his face. Oh dear God, this wasn’t going to be good. Not for me, anyway. “Don’t look so worried, Soph, relax.”
More reason for me to be worried.
I sat down on the other end of our table, opposite my dad, at the head. Bring it. This was bad. Either Dad was having another mid-life crisis and had decided to moan about his life more publicly than usual, or they were adding to my weekly quota of family time again.
“Soph, Zayn’s parents just rang.” Mum told me calmly. Dad watched me carefully beside her and I felt my stomach flip at his name. Okay, I was definitely not ever going to get used to that. His name, I mean. Even from my mother’s mouth it sounded ridiculously appealing to me and that in itself was so dysfunctional beyond words, I almost shuddered in disgust.
“Oh, did they?” I tried to sound neutral. It kind of worked. “What did they say?”
Dad took a sip of tea and looked over at me.
“They’re inviting us to their Christmas party.” He said the last two words with contempt and I tried not to wince and roll my eyes at the same time. Dad was still having... Issues about that. “It’s next week on Christmas Eve and then they invited us to spend Christmas Day with them, too, to have... Lunch.”
“That was nice.” I opted for saying, going with the neutral answer. “A bit short notice, isn’t it?”
“Well, apparently, Zayn was meant to mention it to you.” Mum turned to me and I felt my body tense slightly at the icy look in her eye. “You see, this is why we don’t like our young, Muslim daughter working in journalism and finding her own husband, because we can’t control your exposure to him and find everything out last.”
I couldn’t help but feel my anger rise slightly, even though I knew I was rising to the bait.
“Well, not really, you know exactly what happens and when I see Zayn.” I frowned, irritation seeping into my voice.
“Yes, darling.” Mum said patronizingly, in that way that made my skin itch. “But if we had from the beginning, you wouldn’t be engaged right now, would you? You didn’t tell us when you met Zayn before, because you knew we’d disapprove.”
I scowled, even though I’d heard that wasn’t a great look for somebody who had graduated.
“I think what your mother is trying to say,” Dad interrupted coolly. “Is that it would be nice if you didn’t withhold information from us, sweetie.”
He called me sweetie.
Yeah, I wanted to kill them both.
“So either Zayn’s parents are lying, which I don’t see any reason for them to do.” Dad continued. “Or Zayn didn’t tell you. Or you didn’t tell us.”
“And if Zayn didn’t tell you, that’s not a very trusting relationship, is it, darling?” If my darling mother patronized me one more time, I was going to jump across our stupid glass dining table and rugby tackle her to the floor.
“He did tell me, I just didn’t think it’d be your thing.” I said defensively, not liking the way my parents automatically wanted to blame Zayn. It wasn’t because they even wanted to think their daughter perfect; no, it was because the more dirt they had on Zayn, the more they could rub it in my face.
“Leave it to us to decide whether it’s our thing or not.” Dad said, sounding slightly menacing now. I clenched my jaw and tried to envision happy thoughts. See? I couldn’t win. If I didn’t back up Zayn, I was marrying a total loser and my parents would be on my back about it. If I took his side, they felt all pissy because I wasn’t a part of their crappy little gang. Urgh, I hated them both. “Now-”
“I just thought you guys wouldn’t want to go and anyway, you wouldn’t unless they called to invite you.” I frowned.
“See, there, it wasn’t so hard to tell the truth, was it?” Dad smiled patronizingly and again, the urge to rugby tackle somebody took me over. I shook my head to protest, but Dad just shook his head at me. “Now, now, Soph, we’re just trying to help, we’re not throwing accusations, are we, Ruby?”
Mum just raised an eyebrow at me.
“So, what did you say to them?” I sighed in defeat, clenching my fists under the table. “Do you want to go, then?”
“Well, I was going to tell them we’d think about it, but your father thought that would be too abrupt.”
I decided to not look in my mother’s direction. When she was like this, I only wanted to gauge her eyes out with a plastic fork.
“Do you want to go?” Dad asked me carefully.
Oh, God, I knew this was a trick question.
“Are you here that weekend?” I asked, proud of the neutrality in my voice. “And doesn’t that mean we’d have to stay in Bradford for a few days or something?”
“You leave that to me.” Dad told me calmly. “Do you want to go, Soph?”
I was tempted to tear my hair out. I mean, what a stupid question. Did I want to spend Christmas with Zayn? As opposed to staying, okay, yes, in London, but with my family, awkwardly fighting for volume control as I tried to watch the Doctor Who special?
Then again... Even if Matt Smith was no David Tennant... There was still the Doctor Who special.
“I think it’d be nice.” I said carefully, ignoring the triumphant looks on my parent’s faces. You’d think they’d be a bit more mature. I mean, for goodness sake, Zayn was my goddamn fiance, the least they could do was understand that that meant something.
“You won’t just be seeing Zayn, his entire family will be there.” Mum told me coldly and even though I knew she was only playing Bad Cop so Dad wouldn’t, she was still seriously pushing it. Whether she admitted it or not, she liked Zayn, so I didn’t see what the goddamn fuss was. “I hope you’re not just doing it to please him. I mean, God forbid you should try and please your parents, but this boy comes along and oh, you’ll do anything for him-”
“Alright, Robina, do you want to have this conversation with her when I’m not here?” Dad snapped. Ah, there it was. Dad’s false sense of manliness. What difference did it make if we spoke about feelings? Not that I did that anyway, but I did simply loved the way my Dad acted like we were talking about periods or something whenever my feelings for Zayn came up. Not that I really... Had anyway. I mean, a second ago I’d referred to him as my fiance and no matter how true that was, IT CREEPED ME OUT TO SAY IT. “Soph, if you want to go, we’ll go, okay? Do you want to go?”
I nodded reluctantly. Hadn’t somebody once warned me that love was all about sacrifices? Well, I was screwed. I refused to admit I had any type of positive feelings for Zayn and I was still sacrificing the years of teenage rebellion I’d built against my parents for him. What even.
“Right, then your mother can call them back now and we’ll tell them we’ll see them next week. It’s not a problem.” Dad smiled at me and it was one of those rare moments that I didn’t know whether to accept his sudden niceness and forgot he was mostly a prick, or be suspicious. Mum opened her mouth to complain, but Dad just glared at her. “Oh, for God’s sake, Robina, she’s already marrying the damn boy, what more embarrassment can she cause us?”
Yeah... Prick it was.
“Hey, Adam!” I yelled over the din of surround-sound Power Rangers. “Do you want to go to a Christmas party next week?”
“No.” Adam shouted back, before shuffling in, in all of his eleven-year-old glory. “No, wait, whose party is it?”
“Zayn’s parents.” I told him calmly, feeling slightly better as our parents watched us, confused. “I think it’s in Bradford, though.”
Adam thought for a minute.
“Is Zayn going to be there?”
I nodded.
“Yeah, that’d be cool, we’ll go.” Adam told us importantly, before going back into the lounge and watching whatever crap it was he was watching.
“Adam, why should we go and see Zayn?” Mum shouted out, teasing. I heard Adam grunt at the interruption. He’d finished his studying for the day, I knew what that meant; his brain was officially dead until he had to wake up for school tomorrow. “Don’t you think it’d be more fun to stay at home, just us four?”
“No.” Adam said back, snorting from the other room. Mum could see him from where she was sitting, but I didn’t need to watch him to know what face he was giving her; the look that clearly meant she was crazy. “Zayn’s cool, he said he’d play COD with me.”
“When did you meet Zayn?” Dad asked sharply.
Adam was so good, I didn’t even bat an eyelid.
“I didn’t, but he follows me on Twitter.” Adam said. “I’m watching TV now.” Translation; shut up and leave me alone.
So we did.
. . .
1 WEEK LATER
“Make sure Zayn knows the boundaries.” Mum was telling me quietly as Dad parked the Range Rover somewhere we wouldn’t get blocked in. “If your father sees him touching you, he’ll kill him.”
“I know!” I sighed, rolling my eyes as we waited for someone to open the door. The driveway to the new house was packed with cars. I knew the boys would be here. Rose was going to be late – Harry was picking her up from the station, he’d been running late anyway – but the others should be here.
Including Zayn.
I’d gone for the natural look today, not that I’d had much choice, what with the whole no-red-lipstick-until-the-wedding-day thing. I was still wearing more make-up than usual, though. Black eyeliner, mascara, tinted moisturizer, fairly natural looking pink lip-gloss. The clothes I had chosen myself, for fear my mother would make me so feminine, Zayn wouldn’t recognize me. I was wearing skinny black jeans, a stripy jumper that screamed “festive season” and some navy high-top Converses to match the stripes.
Adam clearly looked the smartest out of all of us. He also looked way too much like a rockstar for my liking. Skinny black jeans, a white shirt and a black blazer, with his own black Converses. He and Mum had argued over the shoes, but Adam had argued that if I was the only reason we were all going and I wasn’t being forced to glam up, he shouldn’t be either. And Dad had just agreed because we’d been running late.
I rang the doorbell, chewing on the inside of my lip nervously.
“Soph, don’t be nervous.” Mum told me quietly, squeezing my hand. “You look hot, Zayn must be bloody blind if he doesn’t see that.”
That made me snort, especially as I saw Adam shoot Mum the most freaked out look ever.
And then the door opened.
“Louis, you wan-” Niall’s eyes widened as he saw me, eyebrows raised, standing with Mum and Adam. “Soph! You made it!” Niall shrieked, before grabbing me in a great bear hug.
Now, I love Niall’s hugs, I do. But my mother isn’t such a fan.
I didn’t know whether to laugh or not. He was so... Enthusiastic. I hadn’t seen any of the boys for the past few weeks, what with the second leg of the tour and everything. I’d spoken to Harry a few times about the whole thing he was going through and the other guys had emailed a couple of times... I hadn’t really spoken to Zayn much. Sure, he’d called and text, but I’d always found a reason to cut it short.
Don’t judge me, okay? The whole... Getting married thing was scary. Especially considering... Well, everything we had gone through to get here. But it all seemed so much more real now. I mean, I was getting married. To Zayn. Of all people in the world.
“Soph’s mum, nice to meet you.” Niall grinned, letting me go to hug Mum instead. Adam and I glanced at each other, trying not to laugh, as Mum politely hugged him back, looking confused.
“Hi.” Dad nodded to Niall as he let go, appearing out of nowhere. He had his polite voice on. “Shall we come in?”
“And you must be Soph’s Dad!” Niall yelled happily, shaking Dad’s hand enthusiastically. I couldn’t help it. I laughed. “Lovely to meet you all, truly. And you must be Adam!”
“Hi.” Adam said politely.
“Welcome to the brotherhood, man, we’re all playing video games in the other room, so stick around.” Niall told him sincerely and I felt my shoulders relax as Adam smiled broadly up at him. It was one thing for Adam to approve of Zayn, but it was another for him to approve of the other boys. “I’m Niall, by the way.” Niall said to Mum and Dad, smiling. “I’m the token Irish one in the band, I work with Zayn.”
I knew Mum recognized him from my hardcore One Direction days, back when they’d just released the first album. Dad nodded and smiled like he knew what was going on and Mum brightened a little. I knew what she was remembering; me and her cheering Niall on as he Irish-danced on Alan Carr.
Niall hustled us in and I stared at how... Busy everything was. There were people everywhere, to start with. Drinking, laughing, talking – yelling at kids.
“I’d avoid her if I were you.” Niall told us cheerfully. “One of Zayn’s relatives friends or something, all I know is that she likes shouting a lot, she hasn’t made many friends.”
I shook my head at Niall, smiling, as he took our coats.
“Soph, I’ll go and find the rest of the boys, they’ll be so glad you’re here, we didn’t know if you were coming or not.” Niall grinned. “I mean, Zayn told us you were coming with family, but we didn’t know if you’d actually be able to make it or not, coming in from London and all.”
“Nice save.” I mouthed as soon as my parents back were turned and Niall shook his head at me, Adam giggling beside us. The boys knew about the constant battle Zayn and I were having against my family.
“Adam, come with me, you can join our little tournament.” Niall clapped a hand on Adam’s shoulder. “Soph, I’ll-”
“Oh, you’ve arrived!” I heard somebody gasp and I turned, with a smile, to my future mother-in-law. God, that term was dysfunctional. “Niall, why didn’t you tell me? Honestly, you boys are useless – Robina, you look lovely!”
I let Patricia do the whole happy-hostess thing. Don’t get me wrong, I loved her to pieces, but I knew she had to play it up for my Dad. Which she did. She looked stunning, as always. Yaser – sorry, Uncle Yaser (future father-in-law, oh God) came out and he and Dad seemed to be getting along.
It was surreal, I’m not going to lie. Not the party; the 1D Mums loved me. Why wouldn’t they? I kept Harry in check, pushed Liam to get a love life, ate relatively healthily with Niall, made sure Louis didn’t let anybody use his minutes so he had enough to stay on the phone with his Mum and... And, yeah, okay, Zayn was my future husband. But still. The girls came over and said hi. The usual; hugs, kisses, “Oh my God, you look great!” being passed around.
“Oh, there you are!” Aunt Patricia – you see, I had no problem calling her Aunt, I mean, c’mon, I’m Asian, I’d been doing it for years, but it was weird, because the boys instantly thought it made Zayn sound like my cousin, which, just, ew, no – looked behind me, rolling her eyes. I felt my shoulders tense. She only reserved that equally loving and irritated tone for one person. “Look who’s arrived.”
I knew I shouldn’t have tied my hair away from my face, what shield did I have now?
I turned and saw Zayn standing behind me, his hands shoved into his pockets. I’ll admit it; my heart stuttered a little bit. He’d let his hair grown out even more than from the last time I’d seen him; it wasn’t gelled up, so was a thick, wavy mess. Black trousers, a black V-neck jumper. Of course, his black and purple Air Max trainers.
He didn’t have his studs in, because he knew it irritated my parents. He’d shaved properly, so there was no end-of-day stubble. He was standing slightly awkwardly and I quickly looked away, as I saw his head begin to turn in my direction.
This was utterly pathetic. He was putting the ring on my finger and making our engagement fully public in a couple of weeks. God, when I’d hated him I’d been way more confident, how was it that, having one of the hottest guys on the planet want to marry me made me feel all... Gushy?
Easy. Because I was still trying to pretend that it didn’t bother me that he’d made the first move, how much I truly cared for him and Hell, how I fully planned on jumping him repeatedly on our wedding night.
Ahh, wedding night. How about I didn’t think about that right now??
“Hi Uncle.” Zayn said with a small smile on his face, shaking Dad’s hand. He kissed Mum on the cheek. “Aunty Ruby, you look stunning-” I blocked out, wincing as I heard him high-five Adam. It was so wrong. Zayn and Adam getting along was just so wrong. I mean, Adam felt protective over me when Dad complained about his tea, but the guy I was marrying? No, Adam was cool with that.
This is what I got for brainwashing Adam into a Directioner in my teenage years.
I chewed on my lip, arms folded over my chest as I looked up, feeling Zayn turn to me.
I looked into his stupid, stupid, stupid brown eyes. They looked green in this light.
“Hey.” He said softly, smiling that stupid, horrible, cute, brilliant, sexy little smile he saved just me.
“Hi.” I managed to say, just as quietly, chewing on my bottom lip with a small, forced smile. Oh, God, I felt sick. Oh, God, Zayn was making me feel sick. See, this was a problem. Why couldn’t it be the way it had been when we’d hated each other? I’d had way more confidence then!
There was a flurry of instructions then. Uncle Yaser (FATHER-IN-LAW, SO VERY DYSFUNCTIONAL, PEOPLE) took Dad to sit with the other men, Aunt Patricia took Mum off with a wink, Niall whisked off Adam and then... It was me and Zayn.
“Why are you staring at me like you would the penguin enclosure?” I asked, raising my eyebrows at him and feeling slightly more comfortable at how confident I sounded. Not felt, but sounded.
“You look beautiful.” Zayn told me, allowing himself to grin at me goofily. “I think someone made the effort for me.”
“Oh yeah, Mum was out to impress.” I nodded, knowing that was exactly what he hadn’t meant. I went to walk away, agonizing over the fact I’d have to walk past him.
I didn’t get far.
As I went by, Zayn subtly placed his hand over my wrist, our shoulders touching.
Ah, ah, ah, help, help, help, close proximity!
“I think you made an effort.” Zayn murmured to me quietly, looking into my eyes. Oh, God, it was really hard to be in denial when he was pulling out the eyes. I mean, that was unfair. I didn’t have eyes like his. I mean, they were brown, but they didn’t have freaking superpowers like his. “I appreciate it.”
“You know if my parents see you touching me before the wedding, they’re going to butcher you, right?” I managed to ask, my voice sounding slightly shaky, even to my own ears. I could smell his aftershave. I could feel his hot breath on my cheek as he spoke and dear God, I wanted to run away screaming. And not because I hated it. The opposite.
“I don’t see you complaining.” Zayn smirked at me. He shuffled slightly closer, so he was standing half in front of me, obscuring everybody else’s view, his chest not too far away from being pressed against mine. Help. Have mercy. “You’ve been avoiding me.”
“Not... Not avoiding.” I managed to stammer. Oh, God, oh GOD, his lips were RIGHT THERE... This had been a bad idea. “Just creating suitable distance.”
Zayn’s smirk widened.
“You’re going to be my wife in a couple of weeks, Soph, we’re going to be close.” Zayn’s eyes fell from mine and travelled slowly up and down my body, giving me tingles. “... Very close.” Okay, that was it. I was going to cry out of pure sexual frustration.
Yes, I said it. Sexual frustration.
Now, don’t get me wrong, I was glad (sort of) that it’d be... Special, when the time came.
But, in case nobody else had noticed, my fiance was ZAYN MALIK, okay? It was torture. Especially when he did... This. I mean, I hadn’t even kissed the guy. Not that I didn’t already know about the absolutely epic sexual chemistry we already had. I mean, come on, last week had been practically nothing to what was going to happen on D-Day (aka, Wedding Night, aka When Soph Stops Being Virginal).
“Sounds like you’ve got it all planned.” I cleared my throat first, sounding nonchalant. I tried to tell myself I just didn’t want to give him the satisfaction of getting me flustered... But I knew that was a lie.
A LIE.
Because I knew the more I acted like he wasn’t bothering me, the more Zayn would try. And honestly, I didn’t want him to stop talking.
“Oh, yeah.” Zayn nodded neutrally, before smirking at me, his eyes smoldering from underneath those killer long eyelashes. Arrgh. I was going to throttle him, I swear to God. I was going to pull a total Lady Macbeth and stab him in his sleep. Was that Macbeth? See?! Zayn was messing with my brain so much, I was getting my literature mixed up! ME! “I should probably warn you, actually, so you’re prepared. I’m going to start with your-”
“Soph!”
I almost passed out with relief as Liam popped his head around the door, beaming at me. Zayn stepped back smoothly, letting go of my wrist, his head down as he hid his giant, triumphant grin. Smug bastard.
“Hey!” I forced a smile and stepped away from Zayn, feeling giddy. Arrgghh, Zayn was making me swoon. How pathetic. Hey, would he catch me? OH GOD, SOPH, NOT HELPING. “Sorry, I was, uh,-”
“Are your parents around? Or can I hug you?” Liam whispered, looking around.
I laughed and hugged him quickly, making sure to inhale deeply. Liam smell. Not Zayn smell. Zayn smell made me feel giddy, Liam smell just smelt good.
“Zayn messing with your head?” Liam asked me quietly, sounding amused.
“Aha, you have no idea.” I whispered back, before pulling away.
. . .
The party was... Great.
The food was great (though I didn’t say it in front of Zayn, because I knew he’d helped and he was charming my parents too much for my liking already), everybody was really friendly (except that one lady who we’d seen when we’d walked in, but Adam and I had mostly avoided her) and even my Dad was having a relatively good time. I mean, I’d seen him laughing.
Shock, horror.
“He’s fitting in well.” Zayn nodded towards where Adam and Louis were battling each other on the X-box, sidling up behind me.
“Too well. He’s adapting better than I am.” I smiled, shaking my head and turning to face Zayn – freezing as I saw how close he was. His face was inches away from mine and the way I could see the teeniest of smirks on his lips – on the lips I was very, very close to – instantly made me know that it was deliberate. “The party’s going well.”
“Yeah, you’ve gone down a hit.” Zayn murmured, smirking again. I stared at him for a moment, about to say something – but unsure of what – before I turned away. “Everybody’s going to be leaving soon.”
“So early?” I asked in surprise, turning back to him, but making sure there was more distance between our faces this time.
Zayn gave me a funny look.
“Soph, it’s nearly midnight.” Zayn blinked. “Countdown to Christmas starts in a couple of minutes and then people will be leaving. Including you. Are you coming to lunch tomorrow?”
“No idea.” I shrugged, stiffening and wincing as, by shrugging, my arm grazed Zayn’s stomach. Okay, so he was wearing a jumper, but still. WHAT IF HE HADN’T BEEN? Oh my God. I was going to find that out soon enough, wasn’t I? What it was like to brush against Zayn, in general, when he wasn’t wearing ANYTHING? Argh.
You see, this was why I had been “avoiding” Zayn. It wasn’t avoiding him as such; it was more the fact that I was kicking myself. I mean, I’d been this super-confident, borderline-cocky, perfect flirt before. Not before, before, I mean between before before and now before and URGH – you get the point. And with the wedding approaching (by wedding I mean D-DAY), I was expected to still be that sexy motherfucker (if I do say so myself). And I wasn’t. I was petrified. Not in THAT way, but just, generally...
Argh.
“Oh, God.” I muttered, seeing couples standing up and slow dancing, as a cover of “All I Want for Christmas Is You” by Michael Buble began to play. Mum was shifting next to Dad, who was probably playing a game, on his iPhone. Zayn followed my eyes. “Way to make her feel like shit, Dad.”
“What’s the matter?” Zayn frowned, looking at them. “Your parents?”
“He’s not dancing with her.” I sighed, rolling my eyes. “It’s something small, but it’ll hurt her. And even if she says it – which she probably already has – he’ll brush her off.”
“Does that bother you?” Zayn turned to me, his eyebrows furrowed. Argh. Perfect eyebrows. NO SOPH, STOP IT. “That she’s not dancing, I mean. Do you want her to?”
I snorted.
“Yeah, watching my mother slow-dancing has always been on my bucket-list.” I snorted, before sighing. “But... I don’t know, she doesn’t have memories like that with my Dad. Romantic ones, I mean. That makes me sad, not the fact she’s not dancing.”
Zayn folded his arms across his chest, watching Mum, and I could see the shape of his arms.
I’m going to go and kill myself now.
“I’ll be back in a sec, alright?” Zayn told me, walking off before I could answer.
“Yeah, that’s-” I stopped muttering and felt my eyes widen as I saw him walk over to my parents. OH DEAR GOD, NO. “Zayn!” I hissed, even though he couldn’t hear me. Which was weird, because I saw him incline his head slightly, from the other side of the room. “No, no, no, Zayn, no, you stupid-”
“What’re you spazzing about?” Adam asked, appearing of out nowhere, looking at Zayn. Adam frowned. “Why’s he over there?”
“Come on.” I muttered, edging closer to them with Adam, trying to make it look natural.
“... Married first.” Dad was saying, glowering at Zayn’s head. I winced. Not good. “Then she’ll be your mother-in-law, ask me if you can dance with her then.”
I can safely say both Adam and I gaped at Zayn after hearing that.
“Well, Uncle, I was going to ask you, but it didn’t seem your thing.” Zayn told Dad sweetly, smirking a little. I stifled a gasp over my mouth. Oh my God.
“Nooo.” Adam muttered. “Dude, no way.”
“Shut up, Adam, it’s not funny.” I muttered, trying not to laugh. No. Not funny. “He’s challenging Dad’s authority, that’s not nice, that’s not, uh, what’s that word? Oh yeah, respectful...”
“He’s also standing up to the grumpy old man, I don’t know what planet you’re living on, but I find this bloody hilarious.” Adam snorted.
“Shut up, Adam!” I shoved him gently, covering my mouth as I laughed. Okay, so it was a little funny. Very funny. “Oh my God, look.”
Dad had waved his hand dismissively, standing up and already calling somebody, Zayn taking Mum’s hand, her face full of a mixture of surprise and a blush at what I guessed was Zayn’s flattery.
I smiled to myself, without meaning to. Yeah, Zayn was good at stuff like that.
I watched as Zayn said something to Mum, making her laugh and slap him on the shoulder, telling him to shut up. Zayn was grinning as he danced with her, slowly, to the music.
As the song began to finish, Zayn caught my eye over Mum’s shoulder (not that that’s particularly hard, at exactly five feet, Mum was the family midget) and smiled at me.
I mouthed a thank you, trying not to smile too much. Stupid charmer.
. . .
Ten minutes to midnight.
Dad had to disappear to the hotel; something about an emergency meeting with Pakistan about the new school or something. Mum was having a great time with Aunt Patricia somewhere – she’d cheered up considerably since Zayn’s efforts – and Adam was inside, playing with the boys.
Zayn had asked if he could talk to me in the garden.
It was cold and I was ill-equipped without my coat, so Zayn gave me the jacket he’d (cleverly) brought with him into the garden. It was snowing in Bradford. A real white Christmas. Maybe it was worth missing the Doctor Who special, not that I hadn’t recorded it. In London, all we wouldn’t gotten was slush.
Kudos, Maliks.
“Well, this is cliché.” I said suddenly, laughing. Zayn looked at me. “You know, the whole... Thing. Me and you originally hating each other, becoming friends and now we’re getting married... Cliché, don’t you think?”
“Should I take that as a compliment?” Zayn asked with a confused smile.
“Definitely.” I nodded. “Rose and I sob like babies every time we see The Notebook, cliché works.”
Zayn didn’t say anything, walking to the end of the garden. He brushed some snow off the small back wall and sat down, motioning for me to do the same.
“Nu-uh.” I shook my head. “I’ll get your coat wet.”
It was weird. Zayn gave me a strange, small little smile.
“It’s fine, Soph.” He said gently, freaking me out even more. “C’mon, sit down.”
I went to argue again, but – realizing that it sounded like I cared – I shrugged quickly instead and sat down, going to brush away the snow. Zayn got there first, shrugging when I looked at him questioningly.
“What do you want for Christmas?” I asked suddenly, looking at him. It was starry tonight. “I never really thought about it before, what do you want?”
“What?” Zayn laughed in disbelief and I shrugged at him, grinning for some strange, strange reason that was unbeknownst to me. “Bit late, isn’t it?”
“Tell me.” I commanded, grinning still.
“Well, good thing you don’t need to go looking for it.” Zayn smiled at me sweetly and I watched him, questioning. “I just want you.”
Oh.
“Well, I, you, I mean, uh, we, um-”
“I mean, all of you.” Zayn said quickly and I stopped stammering to stare at him in surprise. “I know you’re holding back, Soph. I just don’t know why. If you really don’t want to do this, we don’t have to get married, I-”
“No!” I burst out, feeling my cheeks turn red as Zayn raised his eyebrows at me. Awkward. “I... I mean...” Damn it. I took a deep breath. Man up, Soph, where’s your metaphorical penis now? “I do... Want to... Get married.” I said awkwardly. “To you.” I added quickly, watching Zayn’s mouth twitch. “”Oh, get lost!” I muttered, laughing as Zayn burst into laughter. “I was clarifying!”
“I noticed.” Zayn grinned, before becoming more subdued. I watched him, feeling... Weird. Happy weird. GOOD weird. “And you’re sure?” I nodded. Stupid question. I wasn’t exactly one to go gushing my feelings but... I... Liked Zayn. A... A lot. “Well, in that case...”
“In that case what?” I smiled, watching him take a nervous breath. “Zayn?”
“Well, my Malikah-”
“Oh, you Asian.” I snorted loudly. “Princess in Arabic? Next you’re going to start praying aloud on a bus.” I pretended to tut at him, watching Zayn’s incredulous expression. “Bloody terrorist.”
Zayn fought it. I watched him. His mouth was twitching and he was biting his lower lip to not laugh, but his shoulders were shaking and before I could even fully start grinning at him, he’d let out a large hoot of laughter and was trying not to fall over.
In fact, he nearly fell face-forward into the snow, so put a hand on my knee to steady himself, still choking.
For a moment, I froze. Anybody could be watching, aka, my parents.
But... I realized I didn’t mind.
So I laughed too.
“That... Is not the point.” Zayn laughed, shaking his head. “Look, I know we’re not meant to do this until February-”
“If you try and rape me, I swear to God, I’ll kill you.” I said automatically. Not that it mattered. I mean, what could any guy say to that?
“Yeah, it’s not rape if you like it.” Zayn smirked and I felt myself blush. Yeah. He could say that. I watched as Zayn went into his trouser pocket, pulling out a –
I covered my mouth with my hand, refusing to gasp. A turquoise box with a white ribbon.
A Tiffany’s box.
“Zayn...” I managed to whisper.
“Your favourite movie is Breakfast at Tiffany’s, I thought it gave me a bit of a clue.” Zayn smiled at me. “Hand?”
Wordlessly, I let him take my hand as he opened the box.
“I know I can’t give it to you now, but I wanted to see if it fit.” Zayn told me quietly, not looking at me properly. I didn’t see the ring as he took it out of the box and put the box away in his pocket. Silently, he slid it onto my wedding finger and tilted my hand in the light, showing me.
I gasped.
It was stunning.
It was simple. A shining, beautiful plain silver ring, a circular, beautifully cut diamond nested in the middle. As it caught the light from the house, it sparkled brilliantly, making me stare at it, speechless.
It was amazing.
“Soph...” Zayn seemed to struggle with his words. Not that I was listening. Oh my God, this ring was stunning. OH DEAR GOD, THIS WAS MY ENGAGEMENT RING. “I l- I really like you. You know that, don’t you?”
“I love you too.” I murmured, staring at my ring. Oh my God. This must’ve cost a bomb. I couldn’t let him buy me this. I mean, don’t get me wrong, it was so pretty and it fit perfectly and everything and OH MY GOD, I’D JUST TOLD ZAYN I LOVED HIM.
My words died on my tongue, but I kept my face on the ring. Oh God. I’d just told Zayn how I felt...
... And it hadn’t killed me.
And it felt good to finally say it.
I loved Zayn.
I could feel him staring at me. Slowly, I brought my eyes up to meet his.
“Well, that’s one way of putting it.” Zayn was fighting a smirk, but he lost; he broke into a smirk, then a smile and then such a big grin, he looked at the ground sheepishly and laughed self-consciously.
And instead of pretending I rolled my eyes in my head and thought he was being a girl, I did the same thing. I laughed.
I’d finally admitted my feelings for Zayn. I mean, it was no secret why I hadn’t in the first place; my horrendous commitment issues, maybe, or the fact that we were so different, we were bound to fail?
But... Well, we hadn’t.
Because, yes, we were different and yes, I’d seen people just like us – so opposite – who’d tried and failed to have relationships, even marriages. And I’d seen my own parents stuck in their own, unhappy marriage, despite how crazy they’d been for one another and I’d gone through so much of my life not believing in love, even when it – he, Zayn – had been on my doorstep.
It felt good to allow myself to be happy for once.
And in that moment, I wasn’t scared anymore. I wasn’t scared of D-Day, or the wedding, or what it would mean to be Mrs Soph Malik after it. The pandemonium that would ensue once we released to the press, the constant battle it was going to be to maintain a relationship when Zayn was away; not that we’d discussed that yet.
The idea of us being and making a family.
I’d always told myself I never wanted kids. Cars were better than kids was what I’d snorted at any girl who told me about their plans for a family in high school (you’d be surprised at how low aspirations were for girls with IQs over 100). But, I had secretly admitted to Rose and a few scarce others, that I didn’t want any children because it was likely that, even if I did end up loving my partner, it wouldn’t be the kind of love that could sustain a child. I wanted to be so happy, so in love, so perfect in my life and the man I was spending it with, that having a baby and sharing that love with him or her was the most brilliant idea in the world. I didn’t want to just have a baby for collateral, or because at four years of marriage, that was what I was supposed to do, before my ovaries got dusty and fell out.
Who would’ve thought that guy would be Zayn? If anybody had told me that, I would have punched them in the face.
I still might.
We heard fireworks go off and a loud cheer from inside the house. It was midnight.
“Merry Christmas, Soph.” Zayn told me quietly.
I didn’t think about what I did next, or who might be watching, or whatever other crap. I just did it. I tangled my hand with Zayn’s, my engagement ring sparkling under the sky.
I turned to him and smiled. I loved Zayn. I was in love... With ZAYN.
“Merry Christmas, Zayn.”
About A Girl: Chapter Four
Lahore Fort Lahore, Pakistan 2044
As Ari stepped out of the car, she took in a deep breath of the warm, fragrant breeze. It smelt just as she remembered it; like jasmine, heat, and the faintest tinge of lingering chai. She’d spent so many evenings with her father on nights just like this one, sitting out in the garden and looking up at the clear, starry sky above them - regardless of which side of the border they sat on - and upon seeing it again, Ari couldn’t help her large, slow intake of breath.
Ari had purposefully stepped out of the car to face only one structure; Alamgiri Gate, the fort’s westernmost gate. The giant heavy-set iron doors, showing only slight scuffles and scratches that seemed more reflective of age than the angry protests gracing the Pakistani news, stood solemnly before her, tall and proud. The high archway, the deep set doors, the towers and turrets lining either side of the entrance… Ari smiled faintly, memories of her childhood overshadowed by what she knew stood waiting behind her.
Memories.
Exhaling carefully and trying to steel herself as much as she could, Ari slowly turned, her nails automatically digging into the flesh of her palms.
On the other side of the road, sat Hazuri Bagh - a square ocean of greenery amongst the clean grey roads. Brightly potted plants lined the gleaming white pavilion in the middle of Hazuri Bagh, which seemed to gleam amidst the gargantuan structure of medieval red stone behind it.
Just breathe, Ari told herself. As her nails dug further, a silly part of Ari’s brain idly wondered whether today was the day that she snapped them into pieces from the strain.
The rest of the brain, however, was already focusing on something else. Something important.
Badshahi Mosque.
It even sounded scary, though Ari wasn’t sure if that was because of her own… Associations, or a genuinely valid statement.
Badshahi Mosque; or, in English, the Imperial Mosque, an architectural icon of both the Mughal era and the modern region. Her grandfather had brought her and Bhaijaan as children, taking them on historical tours and filling their heads with facts, his face warm and proud as they’d stare at him in awe. She smiled to remember it; but it soon faded, as more recent memories took hold instead.
Every time she saw it again since, she expected it to be less imposing and yet every time, she was wrong. Maybe it was the faded red stone, hardened from the centuries; maybe it was the long, imposing walls running on either side of the external entrance, decorated with an array of turrets, outposts, balconies and archways. Behind them, Ari could see the glistening white domes of the inner mosque, even now, built in perfect symmetry with the external entrance - a solid square towering over the long, low walls on either side.
She hadn’t been back for years. Since…
Yes, she wanted to prove she could do more; be more, be her father’s daughter just as much as her mother’s in the cut-throat world of business. But this project had been important to her for other reasons; for those painful memories that she was currently standing there, fighting to ignore. To face her fears on her own terms and in her own way, without show and fanfare, without the unending applause her - sometimes overly, almost suffocatingly - supportive family would provide, if they knew.
It had been one year after the… Incident.
Automatically, Ari’s jaw clenched and she flinched, as she felt her anger surge at her own stupidity. She hated using that phrase. Incident. Like it was some trivial accident, some social faux-pas, not worth mentioning.
Even now, years later but somehow still only seconds away, Ari felt… Angry. Furious. Because what had happened to her wasn’t some silly mistake, better to be ignored. It hadn’t been that; and it hadn’t just been some… Random act of vicious crime, either. It had all been so much more complicated than that.
She’d last been here, in almost that exact spot, looking across Hazuri Bagh, one year after she’d been raped.
No fancy adjectives. No whispers. Ari hated that all, now more than ever. Rape. That was what it had been. Yes, it had been brutal, but what had happened to her didn’t need further… Dressing up, for it to be understood as a living nightmare.
Just that. A year after she had been raped.
That stupid, familiar lump began to rear itself in her throat for even thinking it.
She’d been with her Mamu Adam, joining him last-minute for one of his test match trips. He’d had some business to attend to in Islamabad and Lahore; though by then, Ari had understood that business really meant catching up with the rest of his fellow athletes. In fact, within those first few days, Ari had quickly understood that the only reason her uncle wasn’t travelling with his teammates, was because of her; at that time, Ari was still… Jumpy around most men, let alone strangers - even strangers who regarded her as extended family.
At the memory, Ari scoffed silently to herself. Comfortable around men - whatever that meant. She wasn’t totally convinced she was comfortable about people in general, though yes, men specifically too, even now.
At that time, though, she’d been… Considerably better than she had been so far; she’d also began to accept the gravity of all of the recent, significant events - not just the rape and the consequent fallout, but her trip to India with Raj and the secrets from it too. It had all finally begun to feel more… Comfortable.
Life had begun to move on. Slowly. It wasn’t really and even now, it still hadn’t - but she had began to accept that she was forever changed, no matter how hard she pretended to believe otherwise, and just how acutely aware others were of that, too.
They’d stopped off on the road for some fresh sugar-cane juice, with the very same view Ari was now looking at, when the call to prayer had rang out - and despite her uncle’s happy nattering, something she’d always enjoyed, Ari’s eyes had become fixated on the building before her.
“We can go inside, if you like.” Her uncle had said casually. He had always been more of a friend than an uncle; another big brother, wiser and consequently a different type of gentle to her own - an old man with eternal boyish charm, as her mother often said. “Or you can go on your own and I can wait here. Whatever you want, I don’t mind.”
“I don’t think people like me belong in places like that.” Ari had tried to joke - but the gnawing insecurity and belief in her words had shone through, her voice too flat and… Awkward, really, to be funny.
She’d felt, more than seen, her uncle frown. Almost four days into their journey and they still hadn’t spoken about what had happened to her in any real detail. Her uncle had been supportive, of course, in the immediate aftermath; but since then, they hadn’t spoken about it alone.
Ari had understood then, and even more so now, why. He had been respecting her boundaries, so carefully, too, the same kind and thoughtful person he’d always been. It felt to Ari that the more time passed, the more grateful and thankful she became to her Mamu for it. He’d been there for her in the same way he always had been and that constancy had meant more to her and still did, more than she could articulate.
But, back then, it had still been… Frustrating, too. It hadn’t been anyone’s fault. It was just that, no matter what the behaviour was, any behaviour that was accommodating was a reminder to Ari of how much had changed… And when she was already so acutely aware of it, everything else felt a little bit false and very stupid.
“Zarina, you’re more than what happened to you, even though I understand that you’re the only one who knows just how difficult and… Unlikely that may feel like right now.” He had told her firmly, allowing her to pointedly ignore his gaze. “And perhaps more importantly, what happened to you was… Absolutely not your fault and nor does it have any reflection on your character, aside from your behaviour afterwards just proving just how strong and brilliant you are - which are your actions, not anybody else’s.” Ari had nodded absentmindedly, almost sarcastically, still refusing to look his way. “What happened was… Vile and those-”
“Can I go inside?” She’d interrupted, not sure how she’d feel if she heard the rest of that sentence. She’d just known - or felt that she knew - it probably wasn’t going to be particularly strong or graceful, for that matter. “Sorry.” She’d said, glancing over at him, immediately guilty for how he’d fallen silent. Mamu Adam had just smiled warmly, shaking his head. That’s okay. “Is it okay? If I go inside?”
“Of course.” He’d replied - and some of the tension in Ari’s shoulders had eased as he’d smiled, as if his last few sentences had never been said. “Do you want me to come with you?”
Swallowing that stupid lump and acutely aware of the time that had passed since then, Ari remembered how she’d hesitated. How she’d hated that she had, but in that moment, had struggled, not knowing that it would soon become a pattern of hers - constantly teetering on the boundary between responsibility and a desperate show of an independence that she felt had now long since been stolen from her.
“… No.” She’d finally settled on saying, despite the nausea she’d immediately felt. Ari shook her head slightly as, even now, it resurfaced, as if it had never left - the fear, the disgust, the resentment, the shame. “I think I want to do this on my own. Can you wait here? Is that okay? I’m sorry, I-”
“Don’t be.” Her uncle had said, gentle but firm, before leaning against the car door. “You go and take your time. I’ll be right here and if you change your mind or need anything-” He’d pulled his phone from the back pocket of his jeans. “- you call me and I’ll be there in seconds. Deal?”
That was one of the first times the frustration had just… Webbed away, replaced with a surge of pure, engulfing warmth.
Ari rolled her eyes slightly as that, that part of the memory, was what made her eyes begin to prickle.
She’d slowly walked up to the doors of the mosque then, the heat burning through her clothes within a few seconds.
She’d read once, or perhaps heard her mother quote it - that people remembered feelings, not actual memories, not in the traditional sense. In this instance, it felt accurate; Ari could remember the path of damp, hot cloth her feet had burned on slightly, protecting her from the boiling stone beneath. The cloth was periodically drenched in cold water, but the heat meant it was never cold for more than a few seconds. She’d remembered her grandfather explaining it to her once.
She’d walked on her heels at first, to try and avoid the burning - but after a few awkward waddles, something had occurred to her.
What can hurt you more than what already has?
She’d walked normally after that, the soft, sensitive skin of the soles of her feet pressed firmly against the cloth. It had felt good - even if she’d found her soles to be slightly red when she’d later retrieved her shoes.
The heat on her feet; the heat burning through her scarf and onto the back of her neck; the sweat, prickling down her scalp. If she closed her eyes, she was physically there. Back in time.
Dangerous, really.
She didn’t remember entering the mosque, either. She just remembered… Colours; the reds and beiges and golds, a haze of faded, regal colour on the floor and walls. She’d become trancelike. She’d felt… The same, somehow; something that had once been so majestic, so perfect and untouched, now faded and old and… Used, but still standing.
Tired and weary of everything and everyone, after seeing so much, but somehow still standing. And probably not for the lofty, optimistic reasons everyone assumed.
She remembered -
Oh, what does it matter? Ari thought to herself crossly, firmly yanking herself back to the present; the cool evening breeze, the whistle of the trees. One by one, she uncurled her tight, cramping fingers. That’s not the important part.
No, the important part had been her receding further into the mosque: away from the tourists, those praying, those whispering amongst themselves and revelling at the architecture; further and further away, through the open plans and into the distant, tucked away corners where the engraved and decorated walls were too damaged for people to focus on.
The important part was how she’d sat in a corner, in one of those few nooks and -
The tears that sprang in Ari’s eyes, thick, heavy and ready to fall, were sudden - but not surprising. As she blinked, Ari opened her eyes just in time to see a solitary floor hit the sand by her feet.
Do it, she told herself angrily. Remember. What can hurt you more than what already has?
She’d sat in a corner, curling herself into a small ball, clasping her hands in front of her and pretending to pray in case anybody walked by… Before hearing the words Allahu Akbar - God is great - loud and… Normal, as the call to prayer.
And then she’d broken.
Up until that moment, Ari’s comforts had been worldly; her home, her parents, her siblings and family, her friends - tangible, worldly things. But in that moment, Ari had become overwhelmed at something else; a realisation, an epiphany, almost - that at least one of the confusing, unidentifiable feelings she still felt about it all, was betrayal by the intangible. By beliefs she had taken for granted her whole life.
She’d felt humiliated and torn and abused by a deity who she’d never really thought about that much before - and that made her feel stupid, because - even more stupidly - she had felt another layer of guilt and failure that didn’t make logical sense.
Ari let her eyes wander - from the floor, to the mosque, to the sky and back again, pressing her lips tightly together as the tears continued to flow. Freely, now; and faster, too, as she remembered. How helpless she’d felt. How distraught as, with the prayer continuing musically around her, she’d felt like a gaping hole had been ripped through her entire body, leaving only the paper-thin edges that felt like they’d fly away in the breeze. How it had felt like she was drowning in the air, how she’d felt… Excruciating pain, all over her, how she’d sobbed so hard that she’d been shaking and pressing her scarf over her open mouth, to hide the wails she was too out of breath to fully create.
Everything, all of it; it had truly hit her then. Not just the… Awe at how one event would mark her, haunt her, forever… No. Not just that.
Everything.
She’d realised she was mourning for a part of herself she’d never noticed enough to appreciate; her innocence, her naivety. She’d thought, before then, that she understood the world. That she was cynical, even. That she… knew. That she at least knew things. Just things, things that she couldn’t describe individually, but that she understood well enough.
As her eyes had squeezed shut and hard, silent cries had wracked through her body and open mouth, she had realised she had known nothing. She had appreciated nothing. She had lost something precious - something mental, something that had been kind and forgiving and protected. Something that had been stolen.
Faith. Faith; in everyone and everything and that, no matter how hard or brutally she tried, she would never be able to get it back. And when faith was absent, so was the ability to hope for better.
Her rage and humiliation from her trip with Raj, the reasons for them, the memories she still sometimes had to pretend to not have in order to place one foot in front of the other. The mourning she felt for herself, for her family, for their lives beforehand. Her guilt and shame and disgust at being the root of it, of having the audacity to live through it and the horrifying realisation of what it meant to think that at all.
Ari bowed her head as her face finally crumpled, closing her eyes and feeling her shoulders tense in a bid not to shake. Behind her, she could hear her bodyguard talking to the young chauffeur - someone barely Kabir’s age, who still daren’t look her in the eye out of respect. She didn’t want them to see her like this. The guard, a man she called Chachu - the term given to an uncle on her father’s side - Abdul, out of respect, was someone her family had known and trusted for years… And, for that very reason, someone Ari couldn’t show weakness in front of. Someone she had to prove to herself she could control herself in front of.
Finally looking up at the mosque again, Ari adjusted her scarf, obscuring her face as more tears fell and dabbing at them softly, so as to not leave tracks on her cheeks.
Now, all Ari felt was… A deep, heavy sadness. A well of sadness where her hopes and faith and optimism had once been, even as a self-certified ‘cynic’; a deep, mournful sorrow, a mourning for the woman, girl she may have been without her traumas. Because it wasn’t just the rape; it was everything after it, everyone associated with it - whether to help her, or not -… Her entire life afterwards.
Taking a deep, slightly shaky breath, Ari subtly shook her head at herself. God, she hated it - how all of those feelings could just… Appear, even when she thought she was fine. How it marked the beginning of a hateful emotional spiral where it flooded her, even if she now knew - somewhat - how to handle it. How to brave the storm.
She was tired of braving them. Of having to.
It sounded petty in comparison, but Pixie’s wedding and the wealth of politics she’d been asked to manage was just that - another storm. Ari just felt too… Tired. She forgot, sometimes, that she was so, so tired…
That was why she had to keep going; to find another project, to push herself when she felt she was too far pushed. It helped her. It was productive now, it was her fuel. She kept busy, used that energy to exhaust herself into sleeping through any nightmares she may still have - nightmares she hadn’t had for a fair amount of time now, for that exact reason.
She made something new, marked another achievement, hit another milestone - something she could be proud of, to justify the poison constantly threatening to eat at her, always simmering beneath the surface.
And it had been working so well, that now she had to do it in places like here. Places that reminded her, not always in a bad way, but… That jarred her, places she’d run from before.
She didn’t want to brave storms anymore. Sometimes that meant standing in the eye of one, rather than constantly struggling to break away on the periphery.
That was the current theory, at least.
And it was just at that moment, as Ari stared up at the old mosque before her and pondered philosophy and the meaning of life… That she was rudely interrupted.
“It’s another Rishi Rich remix.”
Ari paused. What?
“From the club, yeah.”
… No, that was definitely from outside of her head.
Frowning slightly, Ari stared up at the mosque in confusion - which, for obvious reasons, offered no answers - before looking over to the car, finding Chachu Abdul and the driver looking equally lost.
That was when a heavy bass began to play - and when realisation dawned, as Ari turned slowly to the Fort behind her, incredulous. Surely not…
The music abruptly stopped - and, now sure it was coming from the Fort, Ari turned to the staff with fury.
She’d told them check the inside, to see if anyone was in there. Had it needed saying that they should knock?
Ari was just about to let a torrent of fury using only her eyes - something she’d inherited from her father, she was often told -, when as if on cue, Ari heard an engine coming from somewhere behind her.
Now what?
She turned just in time to see it - a dirty but new model Jeep, swinging around the corner from behind the Fort and parking abruptly in front of its doors.
Ari didn’t care that she was staring, or that she obvious. In fairness, she didn’t have to. She was Zarina Zafar. She could stare at whatever she wanted - who was going to tell her not to?
Even so, she couldn’t help how she… Recoiled slightly, her eyes wide from shock as - to her utter disbelief - a heavy dance beat began to play, over a tune that - whilst sounding completely ancient - sounded… Very familiar.
“Girl you got exactly what I need-” Ari’s mouth automatically began to mouth the rest of the sentence, her eyes wide in bewilderment as it did. “I ain’t gonna lie with you it’s where I wanna be-”
Ari knew this song. All of her siblings did. It was one of her mother’s favourite songs, painfully old, except… Remixed. Ari had watcher her mother and Kabir dancing to it in the kitchen the morning before her flight to Pakistan. Whenever Bhaijaan was around and it was playing, he and Kabir would pretend to be rappers from the 90s.
Now completely baffled, Ari shook her head slightly - and clamped here mouth firmly shut -, turning her concentration back to the car, just in time to see the doors opening.
The fingers, which had naturally uncurled, bunched back into fists again… And this time, not because of horrible memories.
No, this time Ari was just annoyed at having been so stupid.
They all headed for the doors without a second glance - all but one. One, wearing navy overalls tied at the waist and a slim-fitting white T-shirt covered in grease.
Oh, she really was thick.
Upon seeing her, a yellow stick of mango kulfi in his mouth, he paused - before raising his eyebrows slightly, as if surprised.
They stared at one another for a few moments. And then…
“Miss Zafar.” He called out loudly across the road.
As much as Ari wanted to storm across the road and scream obscenities, she… Didn’t. Instead, she tried to centre herself, remembering the mosque behind her.
“All of this drama for a sense of mystery? Is this how you do business?” She asked haughtily, deliberately in perfect Urdu - after all, they’d already spoken in English once before.
“You’re the queen of Hindustan, Miss Zafar.” He replied just as fluently - and Ari couldn’t help how her back straightened slightly and her eyebrows raised, at the perfect accent. It could almost rival her fathers - and he was from Lucknow, a city renowned for its elocution in India. Also - he’d said Hindustan. Nobody said that anymore.
He knew about her parents.
Which, yes, wasn’t shocking; everyone did. But to Ari, it confirmed her suspicions; that when they’d first met, the last time they’d seen each other, he’d known exactly who he was talking to.
And another thing… He’d said malika. That was an Urdu word, an Arabic derivative. It didn’t prove anything but… It was most likely he was a Muslim.
A million different alarm bells were going off in Ari’s head.
He shrugged. “I thought I’d stay one step ahead while I had the opportunity. Come in when you’re ready.”
“The last time I checked, queens don’t need permission.” Ari retorted, her voice dripping with disdain.
“As you wish.” He nodded, unfazed by Ari’s arrogance. Why isn’t he fazed? Most men would be trembling in front of her - or her insulted by her, at the very least. That was what always caused her so much trouble. She had tried to curb it since everything that had happened - but when taken by surprise, it became her default. “I’m sure I’ll see you very soon.” And with that - a lazy salute that Ari had to physically bite the inside of her cheeks to not roll her eyes at - he walked to the fort gates, left open for him by one of the other passengers.
It closed with a loud clunk, the music immediately muffled.
Somebody - she didn’t bother to check who - opened their mouths to speak, but Ari raised up her hand and began to count to ten. Maybe twenty today.
Maybe twenty five.
She’d known something was off. It had bothered her for weeks; the scruffy guy who had been waiting for her in the lobby, who’d stood tall and with his arms behind his back when she’d entered.
Reaching twenty five, Ari stormed back to the car, the door already open for her before she’d reached it.
“We’re going back to Islamabad and by the time we come back, I want to know everything about that man.” Ari told Chachu and the chauffeur sternly. The boy quickly nodded, closing the door after her.
Of course, she already knew something. She’d seen it crumpled in the arms of the overalls he’d had tied at his waist.
A badge. A regimental badge. He was goddamn army - and not Pakistani. Ari had lived in London long enough to recognise a British regiment badge when she saw one.
No wonder there was someone else pretending to be the face of the deal. Someone who was clearly a Pakistani male, but serving in the British army, had just bought one of the most important cultural and historical sites in the country.
The riots they’d been seeing now were nothing in comparison to what they would be if people found out.
And then there was the other thing. Before they were even driving away, the mosque falling into the distance behind them, Ari’s message to her father was already sent.
Really?? Was all it read.
Because on top of everything else? There was no way in Hell her father hadn’t known exactly who she was going to have to be working with.
*
Home of Danyal & Samara Zafar The Richmond Building, Chelsea, New York
“Pixie, this isn’t some Bollywood movie that’s going to have aerial views!” Samara huffed, trying to bite back her frustration as Pixie simply waved her hand. “Has this choreographer even factored in your stage? Half of the moves are going to be wasted and everyone else is just going to see twirling!”
“Well, you’re fixing it, aren’t you?” Pixie sighed, rolling her eyes. Mara shut her eyes for a moment, shaking her head. She wanted to lob her phone across the floor. “I told you, the choreographer was there as a back up because someone decided not to show up on time, if you have more work that’s a you problem-”
“It’s your wedding.”
“Exactly, so don’t screw it up.” Pixie said sweetly.
Dany - who had been sitting a healthy distance from Mara on the sofa, pretending to read something on his iPad - slowly began to scrunch up the Lindt wrapper next to him, next to the phone.
Mara shook her head. Really? Screwed up reception?
“Tell Danyal that didn’t work when we were five and it doesn’t work now.” Pixie continued. As Dany winced, Mara couldn’t help her look of long suffering. How was he so actually, completely useless? “Now can you sort out this whole performance thing? I will not be embarrassed by you at my own wedding!”
Just as Mara opened her mouth to speak, however, Pixie’s face disappeared - and Mara was met with her own on her screen, of her scrunched up bun, glasses and dark circles.
This time, it was Mara who winced.
Sighing, she dropped the phone beside her and covered her face in her hands.
“You’re meant to be resting.” Dany said quietly, not looking up.
Mara glared at him.
“You’re meant to be my estranged ex-fiancee too and clearly-” Mara motioned with her arms to the apartment. “- that’s working out fantastically!”
Mara’s eyes narrowed as she saw Danyal fight his smirk. What a prick.
There was a knock at the door.
“I’ll get it.” Dany sighed.
“Who else is going to? Me, the one on bedrest? What do you want, a round of applause?” Mara snipped, groaning internally to herself as she watched Dany - or, more specifically, his backside - saunter towards the door.
As much as she didn’t want to know it, he wasn’t wearing underpants underneath those loose-fitting sweats. He wasn’t. They dropped off the curve of his butt too well for him to be wearing any. It also didn’t help that they were silky and smooth looking, much how they made the curve of his butt look.
Mara gave herself a quick slap on the cheek. Get it together. Life wasn’t that dire that she was going to stoop to fantasising about her own husband.
Reaching for a carrot stick - Mara didn’t believe for a second Danyal had cut her fresh fruit and vegetable sticks himself -, Mara picked up her laptop again, looking at the dance routines the choreographer had begun to lay out. Who was this person? How did it even make sense? Did these people not know Pixie at all?
“No, I am not letting you do this again, I want to speak to her!”
Mara paused.
Had someone else noticed he wasn’t wearing underpants?
Before Mara even had time to dip her carrot into some hummus, there was a very small… Young girl? Woman? Honestly, Mara couldn’t tell - standing in front of her, wide eyed and looking a bit like a lost deer.
And with Mara being the truck that was about to kill her.
After a few seconds of blinking at one another - Mara really couldn’t tell if she was a teenager or not -, the girl finally let out a shaky breath.
“You’re here.” She said, swallowing loudly. Mara waved, once - and looked at Danyal as he appeared behind her, also looking like Mara was about to squish him. In all honesty, that was actually pretty likely. So much for all of that crap about being married… No, no no, Mara was going to keep her mouth shut until she knew what was happening.
Judging by the fact the girl in front of her was wearing more florals than Mara had ever worn in her entire life, including as a toddler, it was going to be an interesting story.
Okay, that wasn’t fair. The only florals she was wearing was some purple flowers stitched into a cream leather jacket. It was cute, actually. So were her black heeled boots. It was the ripped black jeans that were giving Mara mixed vibes.
“… Yeah.” Mara nodded, realising the girl didn’t have anything else to say. “Can I help you with something?”
“No, you can’t.” Dany said quickly - and Mara slowly took a bite of her carrot stick as the girl rounded on Dany like an angry squirrel. If they’d had sex - Mara tried not to bite too hard at thinking that -, how had she not broken? “Noori, come on, you’re leaving-”
“Noori?” Mara repeated gleefully, just as the girl - sorry, Noori - opened her mouth to let out a torrent of what Mara was sure was just super friendly chatter. “That’s a lovely name!”
Mara watched Danyal cringe, just as Noori’s face lit up with happiness.
“Do you really think so?” She beamed. Mara nodded politely, as Noori grinned and sat down beside her. Mara motioned for her to have a carrot stick - which she took happily. “Oh, thank you! You know, I was always super jealous of your name, I always thought it was way more glamorous than mine but when I met this idiot-” Mara bit back her laughter at how Noori’s entire face seemed to change, to glower at Danyal. “- I figured, well, your life has ended up pretty glamorous - I mean, on the outside, not so much the pretend marriage part-”
It was like Mara had been slapped.
From where stood, Danyal tried not to grimace. This… Was what he’d been afraid of.
“Sorry, who did you say were, why are you here?” Mara interrupted, no longer paying attention to Noori’s incessant chatter. How many people? How many people had this idiot gone around telling the truth to, just because he couldn’t keep his mouth shut whenever he got his dick wet?
Also, had Noori seen Danyal in the same sweatpants he was wearing now? Because Mara would bet the only kidney she had left that he had been. She could guarantee that was how it had started!
“He didn’t tell you anything?”
Mara was getting bored now.
“If he had, I wouldn’t be asking. Though I’m going to go out on a limb here and say you’ve fucked.”
Mara raised her eyebrows as Noori made a very loud gasping noise, just as Dany yelled “no” from in front of her.
“Really? Shock, that’s what you’re both going with?” Mara continued, her fists curled much too tight around her carrot stick. “Because if you’re going for cute-”
“Samara-”
“Shut up, this is all of your fault! You don’t say anything when you’re meant to…!” Noori snapped, before grabbing Mara’s knee. It took all of Mara’s restraint not to punch her in the face for it. “I - I would never, never ever, I only found him to find you-”
“I feel like this shouldn’t need saying, seeing as if I’ve said it before, but I haven’t cheated on you.” Danyal interrupted - and although his and Mara’s eyes only met for a second, there was a sincerity and indignation at such an accusation that made Mara immediately feel shamefaced. And then stupid for feeling that way.
It wasn’t like he hadn’t lied before.
“Will you shut up, this is not your moment!” Noori yelled. Watching her from a side profile, it hurt Mara to admit that she was… Pretty. Dark brown eyes, long dark hair. She certainly had nailed the no-makeup makeup look, which Mara still wasn’t totally confident on.
She also… Wasn’t totally dissimilar to Mara. Fair-skinned, dark haired, tall. She had bigger boobs than Mara did. Was that it? Was Mara not curvy enough?
You weren’t here, there’s that too, the irritating, Danyal Zafar cheerleader in her head reminded her.
Noori turned back around to face her.
“I’ve been trying to catch you here for… Months now, it took me forever to just get past the dumbass doorman.” Mara frowned as she realised what sounded… Strange; her accent. A mix of English countryside with an American lilt. It reminded Mara from the girls at boarding school.
Was that how they knew each other?
“Did we go to school together? You’re obviously younger than me-” Obviously. “- but the accent… Benenden’s?”
“Yes! I did, I just transferred to a sister school for a while, which is ironic, you know, because-” Noori laughed slightly as she let out a shaky breath, her grip on Mara’s knee tightening. “- well, because I’m your little sister.”
What?
That was what Mara had meant to say. Instead… Something slightly different came out.
“Fuck off.”
Noori’s face fell. “What?”
“She didn’t mean that, she’s just processing.” Danyal said quickly, taking advantage of Noori’s shock to gently pull her away from Mara by the shoulders. Mara stared at him, torn between being thankful at the gesture and wanting to tear his throat out for whatever connection he had to… Whatever the fuck was happening right now. “Look, I told you, we’re… Dealing with some family stuff right now, it’s not a great time-”
“No, but - but I’m not lying, it’s the truth! I swear!” Noori batted Danyal away, only to stand in front of Mara again. Was this some kind of scam? Because of the Zafar surname? Mara had… Kind of experienced things similar since the whole wedding mess, but it was more industry favours, not anything like this. This was soap opera bullshit. “My Dad is Suhail Abbasi. He works with Madeeha Kayani - or Maddie Kay, or whatever the fuck it is she calls herself these days - , he’s my Dad, so at the very least we’re half sisters and I’m not totally sold that heartless bitch isn’t my mother, too, which is a whole fucking thing anyway - which I guess you can relate to-”
Mara suddenly felt very, very dizzy - and as she dropped her carrot stick to grip hold of the sofa beneath her, she couldn’t help but look at Danyal with wide eyes.
Maddie Kay. Noori had known her mother’s new name was Maddie Kay; and Suhail Abbasi was her father’s - or, sperm donor’s - name. She’d seen it enough times on the millions of medical forms she’d signed during the transplant.
“Did he send you here? Does he want something again?” Mara meant to sound tough, but she wasn’t sold that it barely came out above a whisper. She felt sick. She could feel bile rising up in her throat and her head was starting to pound. You’re due your painkillers, that’s all it is. “Because if he has, I have - I have nothing left to give him, as if part of my body isn’t enough-”
“No! God no, he doesn’t even talk to me anymore, ever since he found out I wanted to know about you!” Noori said quickly. “I promise! I found out about you - I found about you just after your wedding, after you went to his office in London-”
Mara looked to Dany again.
Judging by the worry radiating off’ve him… This was legit. And as much as Mara hated herself for it, she knew he would’ve checked before ever even risking a random stranger barging into their home - or, the apartment she was staying it at least. This wasn’t her home…
“And this isn’t about money! I just - once I realised you were real, I - I don’t have any family and I just wanted… I just, I’m not here for a handout! And I know people must say that to you all of the time, but I told my idiot brother in law this already-”
“Noori.” Dany hissed.
“She’s already freaked out, what difference does it make now?!” So they knew each other. Well. Relatively. What if this isn’t all bullshit and they’ve still fucked? Noori fumbled around in her tassled handbag, before pulling out a sleek white box. “Look, I even bought one of those DNA tests, he made me do one before but in case you didn’t read the results-”
“You sent off my DNA without my consent?” Mara laughed, though not because she found anything funny. In fact, she was more relieved to have something to be angry about as a distraction than anything else.
“Well, actually, I did, I stole some of your hair from the bag of stuff you left behind on the morning you left him that you’re not meant to know about - oh whatever -” This was in response to Danyal turning an interesting shade of red - not too far removed from the colour Mara had turned, actually -, upon his secret being outed.
Mara decided not to think about Danyal keeping any of the things she left behind. After all, what was there to think about? It was just… Stuff. She needed her stuff for whenever she was pretending.
What Mara had turned red at, was the fact that Danyal had spoken to someone about the morning she’d left. Nobody knew about that - not really. But Danyal had been sitting here, talking to her… Long lost sister, about it all? If this was even true?
Wait. Age. If this was true (and judging by the sheer stress on Danyal’s face, matched with the immediate belief in it that stemmed from her internal Danyal Cheerleader… This bullshit really was true because, really, how could something so messy not be a part of Mara’s life?)… Was Mara a big sister? A little sister?
Was this ripped out of a Disney movie?
“How old are you?” Mara murmured, interrupting again and not particularly caring. Her head really was sore…
“I’m twenty, I’m three years younger than you. If both of our parents are the same, then the bitch fell pregnant when Dad came to see you as a toddler.”
Mara closed her eyes. What was even happening?
“Dad came to see me when I was younger?” She repeated. Noori nodded. “And what about you, if, if-” Mara looked at Dany again, who simply nodded once. Shit. “- this is true, then how did you end up with Dad?”
“I grew up hearing my Mum didn’t want me and left me at the doorstep, real Bollywood type stuff, but if it is Maddie, then the bitch didn’t want me.” Noori paused. “Sorry. I know she raised you - or says she did - I’m not meaning to offend you-”
“Anything less than bitch would be offensive, you’re fine.” Mara muttered, rubbing her temples. She had a sister. Or a half-sister. She supposed the DNA test results would give her more insight but - fuck, how was this even happening?
She was meant to be resting up. Relaxing, Dr Kaiser had said. Before falling headfirst into the cyclone that was Pixie’s wedding in Islamabad. Did it ever end?
Maybe this was her punishment, for returning to New York. For being stupid enough…
She and Danyal hadn’t spoken about what they’d said at the hospital. Now, in an odd sort of way, Mara was grateful to meet this brand new, long-lost younger sister, because it meant that they may not have to.
Mara heard a buzz.
“That’s the alarm for your painkillers, I think you should take two.” Dany muttered, immediately going for the box of tablets on the coffee table. As if she’d just noticed them, Noori frowned. “Here.” He crouched down beside her, tablets in one hand and glass in the other.
Under the pretence of pulling the tablets from his hand, Mara let her fingers grip onto Danyal’s slightly - and although she felt dumb at the strange thrill in her chest as his fingers squeezed hers, Mara began to splutter on her water slightly as she noticed Noori smirking at the action.
“I’m good, I’m good.” Mara muttered, waving Danyal away. He hadn’t seen Noori’s expression - and Mara pretended she hadn’t seen as Noori waggled her eyebrows at her. They weren’t on that level yet. Were they?
“What do you even need painkillers for? You’re not sick or anything are you - wait, you’re not dying are you?” Noori gasped loudly, as Mara winced. She really did… Fill up a room. “I have not just found you to find out - if she’s dying, Danyal Zafar-”
“I’m not dying, I’m just recovering from-” For a second, Mara hesitated. But then… What was the point? “… From transplant surgery. I gave Dad a kidney.” Mara tiredly looked to Danyal. “See, you’re not special. She didn’t know that either.”
“Transplant surgery? Why would you give that walking anus a kidney? Watching him drink like a fish as a kid only had its perks in knowing one day he’d die sooner!”
“Okay, Noori, that’s enough, Mara needs rest.” Danyal said firmly - and Mara couldn’t help the sigh of relief inside of her own head. “She needs some time to process and she’s still trying to recover-”
“And where am I meant to go? I told you at the door, I can’t stay at my friend’s any longer and I am not taking your money, or Dad’s-”
“What are you talking about?” Mara asked tiredly.
“Dad! It all makes sense now, why he’s being such a controlling little shit, he knows he doesn’t need me to not torture him slowly while he dies of liver cirrhosis anymore!” Noori snapped, before turning back to Danyal. “I’ve just met her, after all of this time and with no help from you, I am not giving that up-”
“Noori, I’m not asking you to-”
“Noori, shut up for a second!” Mara snapped - and although she instantly regretted it, the immediate silence took that away. “What’re you talking about? That you have nowhere to stay?”
“I was burning through the savings account Dad made for me, but he cut me off when he realised I wasn’t joking around. I’m almost out of money and he’s going to lock off my account unless I go back to London.” … That was not promising. “And no, see, I see the look on your face and no! I don’t want your money! Danyal already offered it when we got the DNA tests results back-”
Mara turned to her moron, stupid, softie husband. “You did?”
As if Noorie wasn’t even there, Dany sighed, his shoulders sagging in a sign of resignation that only Mara fully understood.
“She’s your sister.”
His butt really did look good today.
“- and I don’t want your charity, I just want to get to know you! And I know it’s a lot, but I don’t want to go back to London and have that asshole doing everything he can to make sure I never speak to you again and I do not want anybody’s charity, I just wanted to meet you and see you, that’s all I’ve ever wanted-”
But Mara was looking at Dany again.
He tilted his head slightly, his un-styled hair wafting slightly as he did. She’s your sister, Samara.
Mara slightly raised an eyebrow. Something you clearly knew about. She briefly glanced around the living room, before meeting his eyes again. This place? I don’t even feel at home here.
Dany rolled his eyes slightly. That’s your own fault.
“Noori, you can stay here.” Mara muttered. Immediately, Noori’s chatter stopped. Suddenly very interested in fixing her blanket, Mara glanced quickly at Danyal. “If that’s okay with you.”
“Of course it’s okay with him! Why wouldn’t it be? It’s your home too, trust me, I know how he feels about it.” Noori laughed, placing a hand on Danyal’s shoulder - before her smile immediately disappeared, at seeing the automatic daggers that seemed to shoot out of her sister’s eyes. “I just mean - are you sure? Because I would… Love to stay and get to know you, but I don’t want to end up walking in as you too finally succumb to the sexual tension and get it on-”
“Noori!” Danyal groaned - and judging by the way his name flowed from his tongue in familiarity, he’d said it multiple times before.
“Yes, sorry! He’s so boring sometimes, I really hope it’s just the lovestruck thing - ow!” Noori stopped and Mara tried very very hard to pretend she hadn’t just seen Danyal elbow her.
They so haven’t fucked, Dany’s Cheerleader told her happily. He’s treating her like his own sister.
That was both a great and a terrible thing.
“I’m sure.” Mara told her - and, with slight surprise, realising she meant it. Annoyingly… Danyal (once again) knew her well. “I know what it’s like to feel trapped and even if by tomorrow we realise, for whatever reason, that we hate each other or none of this is true… Until then, you should know that whatever family you do have is around.”
It was strange, but - Mara felt… Warmth in her chest as she said, even at seeing the slow smile that began to spread across Noori’s face.
“Really? And we can get to know each other?”
“As long as you turn the volume down.” Mara nodded, watching in realtime as Noori trapped the squeal in her throat. Instead of speaking, she nodded emphatically. “Pack all of your stuff and bring it here-”
“I’ll call one of the drivers to help you.” Dany said, already pulling out his phone.
“Yes, thank you Bhaijaan!”
“Oh, now it’s Bhaijaan?” Dany huffed - and Mara was surprised at how she wanted to smile, knowing from Dany’s expression that only half of him was really grumpy.
“Yes, because now I’m verified family! Though if you want me to do another test, I’ll even leave my bag here and I can do it when we come back, I’m so excited-” Mara watched, eyebrows raised, as Noori dumped her bag empty - including the DNA sample box -, fishing out only a pair of keys and her phone. “I want to hug you, but is it too soon to hug you? I don’t want to hug you too soon and I also might cry if I hug you, but now I’ve said it, I might cry anyway-”
“You can hug me if you want to.” Mara said awkwardly, trying not to notice how Dany was smiling knowingly between them.
“Okay!” Noori said excitedly, before pausing. “But just so you know, I might cry anyway so I’m going to hug you and then leave so you don’t have to see all of it!”
“… Cool, sure.” Mara agreed - but before she’d finished her sentence, Noori was already holding her.
Mara had automatically tensed, worried about her scar and the impact of Noori’s excitement - but although Noori had been fast at the opportunity to hug her, it was surprisingly… Soft.
Soft and… Heartfelt.
For reasons she didn’t understand, Mara found herself blinking back tears as, still standing, Noorie leant down and placed her chin on Mara’s shoulder… And squeezed, gently but tight at the same time, burying her face into Mara’s shoulder. Over her shoulder, Mara watched as Dany’s smile - slightly teasing before - became something gentler, as instinctively, Mara squeezed Noorie tightly back too.
“Okay I need to go, this mascara isn’t waterproof!” Noorie laughed, pulling away - and Mara deliberately avoided eye contact, after catching a glimpse of the happy tears - at least… She thought, hoped, they were happy - that Noorie was avoiding to spill. “I’ll see you later - you will be here when I get back, right?”
Mara felt the tears almost come back again. It had been said so… Lightly. Like it was nothing, like it was a joke.
But Mara knew it wasn’t. If her - their - father was anything like she thought he was, anything like Maddie Kay, it wasn’t a joke at all. It would’ve been Noorie’s entire life, just like Mara’s.
“I’ll be here.” Mara promised solemnly - before remembering herself, remembering that she needed to get a grip, and smiling again. “We both will, go. Make sure you have everything.”
“Okay.” Noorie grinned - and, apart from grabbing Dany’s shoulder and letting out another squeal, disappearing to the front door. “See ya later, sis!” She laughed happily, before Mara heard the front door slam.
For a few seconds, Mara just enjoyed… The silence. You know. Before another long lost family member took the opportunity to knock on her door.
She’d always wanted more family - she thought she’d gotten it, albeit with terms and conditions, from the Zafars. But this…. This…
“I have a sister.” Mara said numbly.
“You have a sister.” Dany echoed.
There was another short pause.
“Wait, I have a sister and you didn’t think to tell me?” Mara’s voice began to shake with anger, as she finally looked up at Danyal again, her hands quivering. “What is your fucking problem with honesty?”
Dany’s eyes narrowed.
“You see, normally I’d ask you the same thing, except I feel like we had that discussion after you showed up without a kidney, which did kind of steer the conversation, Samara.”
Mara let out a frustrated growl. Maybe he was right.
Maybe.
A sister…
About A Girl: Chapter Three
Kaiser Medical Clinic Manhattan, New York
She was awake when he left.
Mara knew she would have woken up beforehand; she knew what she was like on anaesthetic. After Danyal had all but dragged her to the hospital, she’d been diagnosed with a hernia caused by not looking after herself properly after the transplant surgery - and within a few hours, she’d been in theatre. Mara wasn’t even sure what time of the day it was. But she was properly awake now and, hearing a small sigh from the corner beside her before the door closing quietly shut, her eyes flew open and she grimaced slightly as she sat up a little in her bed.
Dany had stayed with her. The whole time. He’d even stayed during her stomach being examined by the doctor - a Doctor Kaiser who, Mara was sure, was exactly the clinic’s namesake - when she’d told him not to, which had led to her clutching onto his hand as she tried not to cry out in pain. Even when she’d first been wheeled out of surgery, she knew he’d been there; she couldn’t remember much, just his voice… And a hand on her forehead.
You know. The exact kind of thing she didn’t want to remember.
Grimacing slightly and placing a hand over where she could only feel a dull ache, Mara leant over to the small table and picked up her phone, collapsing against the pillows as it rang. She purposefully ignored the arm chair beside it, a messy hospital blanket splayed across the seat.
“The fact you’re calling me means you’re not on a flight, which means you’re not coming, which means your drama with my idiot cousin means you’re not attending my wedding-”
“Pixie, please.” Mara groaned, her limbs still feeling heavy. She tapped the loudspeaker and prayed Danyal wouldn’t be back anytime soon. She didn’t think he’d left the hospital - not for a second - but that confidence was confusing, and her brain felt foggy enough already from the anaesthetic. “Have you spoken to Zarina yet? Danyal said he’d call her.”
“Some shitty excuse about you being hospitalised?” Pixie asked haughtily - but Mara smiled slightly, at the tiny glimpse of concern she’d heard. “Yes. You’re an idiot.” There was a small pause. “Are you okay?”
“I’m fine, I just can’t do much for a few weeks. But I promised I’d show off my badass dancing skills for the wedding and I promise you, it’ll happen. It just means I need to take it easy here first. I’ll still help from here however I can.”
“You’re still coming?” Mara mumbled in agreement, still smiling as she heard the hope in Pixie’s voice. “Well… Then of course you should look after yourself. Be careful.” Mara shook her head slightly, as she practically heard Pixie throw her hair over her shoulder. “Obviously you can’t be ill and like, embarrass me or whatever. What’s even wrong with you?”
“I had a hernia repair.”
“A hernia? Don’t old men get that? Why do you have one?”
“I’m extraordinarily special and I decided I needed to steal some of the limelight away from your Bridezilla routine.” Mara teased, shifting slightly to be more comfortable. Her throat was a little dry and her head was still not great, but she’d be fine. In fact, she didn’t feel any pain at all. “Actually… Pix, do you have a few seconds? To talk?”
On the other side of the phone, sitting in traffic in Pakistan, Pixie hesitated as she looked up at the gigantic Centurion Mall - two towering blocks of every shopaholic’s dream - fast approaching.
“Of course.” Pixie lied, twirling her finger in the rear-view mirror, motioning for the chauffeur to turn around. Pixie guiltily ignored his look of long-suffering. They’d been stuck in traffic heading towards the Centurion for the past forty-five minutes. It didn’t matter. Mara only ever called when something was wrong - and seeing as she was calling from a hospital bed, Pixie was placing bets that there was more going on than usual. “How can I help?”
This time, it was Mara who hesitated.
She’d lost a lot of friends, in becoming Mrs Danyal Zafar. To all of the friends she’d grown up with or made in New York, before meeting Dany… She’d changed. Mara had been bitter about it at first, angry even - and maybe a part of her still was, at the unfairness of it all - but… She understood now why they’d thought that. She and Danyal, for lack of a better term, had been building their brand. Everyone was supposed to fall for it. If they’d done a good enough job to fool the Zafars, even now, was she surprised that her friends had, too?
Not to say it wasn’t… Shitty. She hadn’t noticed the distance so much when she and Danyal had still been playing their stupid, stupid game, but… Once she’d left, after the wedding, the absence had become… Obvious.
It had been a lonely few years.
It was why she hated being back in New York; hated actually seeing Raj and Pixie, rather than just texting them, even bickering with Ari again. It was so easy to fall into the old routine, but it was just a constant reminder of everything she’d faked and lost to get it - when even that wasn’t as simple as it should have been.
She didn’t have anyone to talk to about any of this. There was TJ, sure, but… After everything that had gone down with Divvy since the wedding, Mara felt like it was almost cruel to keep bringing it up. Not to mention there were some things he just… Couldn’t understand. No therapist would be paid enough, or have the patience, to follow the complications of Mara’s history, let alone understand it. Her family were more in the dark than the majority of the Zafars were. There was nobody to talk to, nobody to ask for guidance, to ask if she’d grown - except the people in it, the people Mara resented for being a part of something that trapped her.
At least, that’s how you felt before, Mara reminded herself. You’ve changed. You’ve grown. You spoke to Danyal.
Mara immediately frowned at herself. Spoke was a push at best.
As much as Mara wanted to be fiercely independent, to not need to talk to anyone… She’d spent the last few years doing that. And it had been fun! It had. It had been good for her and forced her to see things and understand things she hadn’t wanted to, things she would have always found excuses to avoid.
The problem with that was that now she was running out of things to keep her busy. Some things just needed confronting.
And Pixie was as close as she had to a friend.
“Do you remember when you asked me the real reason why I left Danyal when I did? After the wedding?”
“And you fed me some bullshit excuse about a moment of clarity between throwing up vodka shots?” Pixie snorted - before pausing and settling comfortably into her seat as her chauffeur headed for the motorway. “…Yes. I take it I’m about to hear the real story? This is exciting…”
Mara frowned, glancing at the closed door of her room again.
“Maybe a bit too much, Pix.”
*
Red Light District SoHo, London Three Years Ago
“I cannot believe you just did that.”
“Oh, relax.” Samara giggled, stumbling slightly on her studded red Valentino’s. Immediately, Danyal’s arms went out to steady her - but she avoided them, just about regaining her balance, before standing in the middle of the street and continuing to laugh at herself some more. With a frustrated clench of his jaw, Dany kept walking. “Oh, what is your problem? We were having fun-”
“Fun?” Danyal repeated, whirling around to face her. “You, alongside with everyone else’s significant other, got onto the stage and started dancing with the-”
“With the pole dancers? Strippers? Or are you going to be diplomatic and call them exotic?” Mara snorted, using air quotes above her - before giggling to herself some more. “Get over yourselves! All of you! What, you drag us all to a strip club for drinks-”
“I didn’t know we were going-”
“And all of the significant others, girls and boys alike, are meant to sit there meekly and not have our own fun?” Mara snorted. “I saved the night! You saw how much fun we had up there on stage, everyone loved us-”
Dany clenched his fists and kept walking, trying his best to drown her out.
“Oh, oh, what’re you going to say now, hmm?” Mara called after him. Reluctantly, he pulled to a stop - she was getting louder and with the silence around them, it only seemed worse. “That I embarrassed you? Is that it?”
“I never said that.” Danyal muttered, more to himself than Mara. Unluckily for him, she happened to hear.
“Is that why we had to run out and leave so early? Why you needed me to make excuses for you?” Mara pouted, stopping in the middle of the road again. Thankfully, it was mainly deserted - it was almost 3am and although the rest of SoHo was still buzzing, where they’d parked was a small ocean of silence. Just a few steps in front of them, the car - a deep red Corvette, parked by some greenery - waited and Danyal could have jumped for relief upon seeing it. “Because your ego got bruised that, seeing as we’re not at the turn of the century, you and your Neanderthals couldn’t just ogle at those dancers in peace? At least we all gave you a show, it’s not my fault you’ve got the goods and are now too afraid to touch them - well, me, I mean, obviously -”
“Get in the car.” He muttered, unlocking it as they approached. Not bothering to check on her behind him, he opened the passenger door - but instead, Mara stayed where she stood a few feet away, swaying slightly in her shoes. Dany sighed. “Samara, please, can you just get into the car? Please?”
And then, much to his relief, she slowly began to walk towards him…
… Before slamming the door he’d been holding open shut and snatching the keys from his fingers, twirling them on her own.
“You’re absolutely ridiculous if you think you’re driving in this state.” Danyal told her coolly, trying his very best to not be antagonised. Once he showed he was… It was game over. He knew her when she was like this; she was mischievous and if he didn’t play his cards right, they’d be out here all night, bickering like schoolchildren because Drunk Samara found it funny.
“Is that the real reason?” Samara asked, her eyes glinting in the light. Dany stared down at her impatiently as she stepped closer. “It is, isn’t it? I was right when I gave that crappy excuse when I saw you were on the verge of a tantrum. That’s why you’re pissed.” Mara laughed as Dany’s jaw clenched. He was so easy to irritate. She stepped closer again, closing the distance between them and draping an arm over his shoulder. Dany sighed and stared off at something in the distance - but no, no, that was no fun! Placing her fingers on his cheek, she forced him to face her. “You saw us all goofing around on that stage, saw everyone watching, and you hated it.” She moved closer still, her voice dropping slightly. Underneath her arm, she felt Dany’s shoulders tense. “Because in that moment, all you wanted… Was for me to be doing that with just you watching, in our bedroom.” Samara murmured, so close now that her chest was brushing against his. “That’s the real reason, right?” She tilted her head slightly, triumph radiating from her as soon as Dany looked away again. “Or am I wrong?”
The last few words were whispered, her breath - smelling sweet, with an alcoholic tinge - warm on his neck.
He couldn’t help it. He couldn’t have.
He showed weakness - he swallowed.
Mara’s smirk grew.
“You know, if you want me so badly,” Mara continued conversationally, balancing on his shoulders now. Automatically, Dany went to steady her as she leaned into him - and cursed himself silently for falling for the trap, when his hands found the bare skin of her sides, warm and with curves that perfectly fit into his hands. “I’m right here.”
Mara raised an eyebrow as Dany’s facade broke - the perfectly blank, almost bored expression making way for pure confusion and wide eyes.
“You’re - you’re drunk.” Dany said uncertainly, careful to keep her at arms distance. Mara only smiled. “Just - just get into the car and you can - sleep it off-”
“You know, I kind of just don’t feel like doing that?” Mara hummed.
He clamped his mouth shut as, eyes on him, Mara sauntered over to the car and sat on the hood.
They said nothing for a few moments, challenging each other silently. Daring the other to make another move, to try and be in control.
She wasn’t wrong. Of course she wasn’t - and they both knew it, the same way they both knew that the way she was sitting on the damned hood of the car was to show off her legs.
She didn’t look beautiful tonight. Well, she did - of course she did, she always did to Dany -, but this was more than that. So… Much more.
They’d had to share the bedroom at the Zafar house while the other members of the family were still there; but they’d barely spoken when not in public and certainly not touched. She needed her space. Danyal understood that. After everything that had happened at the wedding, he was amazed she was still there at all - and he wasn’t some kind of animal, he could control himself. Of course he’d wait.
But he’d been so preoccupied with Mara’s feelings, that he’d forgotten everything else.
Until he’d seen her on that stage.
He’d known, as she’d swayed her hips in time to the music and elicited hoots of approval from customers and dancers alike, that she’d been doing it for him. To piss him off, to get his attention. If he’d doubted the attention part before, he certainly wasn’t now.
He didn’t want to look at her the way he was right then. He didn’t. But he couldn’t help himself.
Because she’d been right.
She was in short black dungarees, a tight-fitting cropped white T-shirt that showed off her dancer’s body and siren red lipstick to match her high heels. Now, Dany watched as she pulled her hair from the messy ponytail she’d kept it in, shaking it slightly at the roots as it fell into natural, tousled waves.
He hated how he couldn’t look away. It was a game. This was all some kind of game.
And yet… A part of him was desperate to keep playing it.
“You’re really pretending to not think about it?” Mara finally asked knowingly.
“You’re drunk, you don’t know what you’re saying.” Dany replied robotically. What did he do? What was happening? What did he do?
Mara smirked again.
“I’m really not as drunk as I’m letting you think I am.”
He wished.
“If you were sober at all, you would not be suggesting…” His confidence faltered as he struggled to find the right words, Mara watched him with raised eyebrows. “You wouldn’t be coming up with this kind of… Plan.” He finished feebly.
“No, if anything, it proves how aware I am. It’s ideal, really.” Mara told him, crossing one leg over the other and leaning on her arms. Danyal pretended to look down the road, rather than acknowledge how long her legs looked in front of him. Supermodel legs. “I mean, we’re both incredibly frustrated at how things have turned out, aren’t we? Me in my gilded cage, you my keeper.”
Danyal rolled his eyes.
“This is a way of… Releasing that frustration.” She shrugged - before walking towards him. Dany crossed his arms over his chest, helpless as he watched the car keys disappear into her back pocket. Maybe it was hope - maybe he was just imagining things - but for a split second, his mind registered that she wasn’t as wobbly on her feet as before. “I think it’s really rather sensible. Well done me.”
Dany shook his head, as Mara stared up at him from underneath those damned eyelashes, chewing on the inside of her lip.
“Whatever point it is you think you’re trying to prove-” Dany clamped his mouth shut as Mara yanked him forward by the belt loop of his jeans.
“I don’t need to prove a point, you already did it for me by manoeuvring that hot mess people are calling a wedding.” Mara said sweetly, biting back further amusement as Dany did everything he could to avoid eye contact. The empty road was so interesting! Or the tree in the corner. Fuck, even the dirt underneath his shoe. It was frustrating because Dany didn’t quite know why he couldn’t look at Samara… And yet he knew the more space between them, the better. “I know you find me attractive and I know the only thing that stopped you before was this knight complex you have going on-”
This time, Dany did look at her - with incredulity. “What? That’s what you think?”
“- but you quite nicely sorted out that little problem for your already questionable conscience by putting a ring on it, so let me reassure you-” She yanked on the belt loop again slightly, jerking Dany forwards so that their faces were inches apart. The street lamps behind them meant half of his face was in shadow and there was a cold breeze that made her shiver against his body - something that didn’t go unnoticed, seeing as Dany’s whole body seemed to tense. “- I am a little drunk, but only enough to know that I would be too proud to say this sober.” No reaction. Mara sighed. “Let me put it this way - I want someone’s hands on me and it’d be in your best interests for those hands to be yours.”
Dany’s face remained the same - that frustrating impassive -, but Mara smirked to herself as she felt his breathing get heavier against her chest.
“Why do I feel like I’ll regret this later?” Dany finally said - and just like that, Mara’s mouth went from a smirk to a full blown, Cheshire cat smile. “So what’s your plan? You won’t get in the car-”
“I mean, we’re standing in the middle of SoHo, if we ever got really desperate, there are at least several street corners we could disappear into and nobody would bat an eyelid.” Mara quipped - and even though it was the very last thing he wanted to do, as their eyes met, Dany couldn’t help but match the smile Mara too was trying to fight, at her own quick humour.
The smiles faded as their eyes stayed on each other.
Mara’s breathing… Stuttered slightly as, as carefully as if she were made of glass, Dany’s hands moved from her hips to her ass, pushing the two of them closer.
Mara’s slapped her hands over his as his fingers spread, ignoring the tingling she suddenly felt from her throat down to her ankles.
“Nice try, but you don’t get those keys until you pick a side.”
Dany’s eyes narrowed as Mara stared up at him in defiance. The tips of his little fingers were brushing against where denim ended and skin began and, unthinkingly, they began to trace small circles.
It could have been seconds. It could have been minutes. Who knew?
“Oh, fuck this.” Dany finally muttered - and Mara laughed into his mouth as she found it smashed against hers.
Within seconds, she was squashed between Danyal’s body and the cold car, her back automatically arching as she shivered into him from the icy metal.
They were kissing. This was happening.
His stubble was rough and chafed against her cheek as he kissed her, her rings scratching against his scalp as her fingers tangled in his hair; they scrambled against the, their whereabouts forgotten, to push Mara up higher so that her legs could wrap around his waist, making her hum in approval as, once successful, she felt his torso, strong and firm, against the bare inside of her thighs through his thin shirt.
He smelt like the smoke of the strip club and his own aftershave, like a damned warning, every breath of it she took in reminding her that this was a terrible, stupid choice - but that was what somehow made it better, what made her kiss him harder and pull him tighter and press her pelvis up against his chest before she could think better of it.
Fuck who saw them. Fuck what they were doing, fuck how complicated everything was. For every reason she could think of to stop, the feeling of Danyal’s hot tongue in her mouth and how their bodies writhed against each other with each move of it was a reason to carry on. She was breathless; they both were, kissing furiously and not pausing, because if they did the spell might break and that was the last thing either one of them wanted. No more reality. No more thinking.
His hands were all over her, ass to the bare skin of her waist, to the inside of her thighs and back again. She couldn’t keep her eyes open - but when they did flutter at the feeling of Dany dragging his lips down her neck, his stubble grazing the path, she could only see her wedding ring glinting in the darkness from where it rest against his cheek, keeping him in place as he moved.
He was rough, but not too rough - he pulled her by the roots of her hair to give him more access to her neck, but only hard enough to leave her grinding her hips against his chest again, her hands gripping him by the waist. Every time they moved against each other, he made a small grunt as her heels pressed into his behind and every time he did, Mara couldn’t help a smug smile.
“You’re a - you’re an - an - asshole.” Mara managed to say between silent gasps, gripping the back of his neck with all of the strength she had. He was. He was a fucking nightmare, this was all of his fault, this whole damned mess was his fault - and she was proven right, right by how he smirked into their next kiss, their kisses so hard that it felt like they were both bruising each other. That’s what it felt like. A million bruises, each one packing its own punch, a sensory overload that took her out of her own head, one that she didn’t want to stop. “Put - put me d- the car -”
Dany nodded - but neither one of them moved, still tangled in each other, their surroundings silent save for the sounds of their lips messily moving against one another and their bodies writhing against the car.
When Dany finally let go, Mara threw him the keys - and seeing one another like that, seeing Dany’s hair sticking up in odd places and with red lipstick smudged all over the both of them, made their eyes sparkle with lust.
*
“So you fucked him in the red Corvette?” Pixie gasped, scandalised. “That is my favourite car, you tramp-”
Back in New York, Mara began to splutter at the phone in horror.
“Wh - I - no! No!” She said quickly. Why had she decided to tell Pixie this, again?! “No, no, we did not fuck in the Corvette, oh my God, Pix!”
“Well, then, what happened next? Details, now, I honestly didn’t know my cousin had it in him-”
Mara grimaced at her use of the word cousin.
“No. No more details.” She muttered, the anaesthetic - and the memory - leaving a horrible taste in her mouth. There was something nasty about remembering it in the harsh light of the hospital room. The few times she’d allowed herself to remember were… Were times when she’d been alone, in the dark and in bed, using the memory recreationally and knowing full well the disgust and embarrassment she’d feel for it afterwards.
Except, unfortunately, now it was too late to just stick back into a box in the back of her head.
She remembered it all.
The way their lips had met again within seconds of slamming the car doors shut behind them. How Danyal had almost crashed three times on the drive back, speeding and skipping red lights, as she’d deliberately stared at him, breathing heavy, as her hand had slipped under her dungarees (Mara cringed to think it). They hadn’t even made it up the stairs without her dungarees being left in a puddle behind them.
Mara felt her face go hot underneath her hands. Uuuurgh, she hated herself.
“So is this the real reason why you stopped drinking?”
Peering between her fingers, Mara stared at the phone incredulously.
“Um, yes, is that not enough of a reason?” Mara huffed. “I - I - I woke up the next day, realised what an utter… Moron I’d been and I got the Hell out of there-”
“Why are you telling me this, Sammy? Hmm?” Pixie was the only person to call Samara Sammy, the same way Mara was the only one to call Pixie Pix. She sighed. “What? You want to do it again? Pick up where you left off?”
“Is this not weird for you to even say out loud?” Mara groaned. “How can you be so - so… No, I don’t want a repeat, I just-”
“Oh my God, you so do, I can hear how thirsty you are and I’m a continent away.” Pixie cackled gleefully. “What’s stopping you?”
“I don’t know, Pix, the imminent threat of departure?!”
“Are you planning on leaving him, then? For sure?”
“I- I don’t know, I just-” Mara struggled helplessly. “But we’re meant to talk and after that happened, I just - I just needed someone to understand that - it’s - it’s complicated, how are we meant to talk without actually talking about that-”
“Then don’t talk about it, use your hospital time to do the opposite of talking-”
“No, Pix, I don’t know what to do-”
“What you want! Do what you want, Sammy, you’re married to what used to be one of the most eligible bachelors on the planet who apparently is not living up to the stereotype of his reputation being more impressive than his skillset, enjoy it!”
“You’re not - I told you, it’s more complicated-”
“Maybe more than I thought before, but nothing a quickie in the Corvette can’t fix.”
“You’re the worst, you are being of no help at all, where is the emotional support-”
“Honey, you didn’t become friends with me for emotional support. You became friends with me because I don’t spout bullshit.” Pixie told her smugly. “Now, I’m bored of this conversation. Keep me posted and get well soon. Bye.”
“Wait, I-” Mara began - but the call had already ended, leaving Mara alone in the silent hospital room. “That’s… Awesome.” Mara muttered to herself, sighing.
Pixie didn’t understand. Nobody did. That was the whole problem.
Whether she had wanted to or not, Mara had… Opened up a conversation with Danyal, before the surgery. A conversation she couldn’t have, even if they needed to, because she didn’t know where she stood in it.
So far, she’d managed to dodge discussing… Everything, any of it, but now? Now how was she meant to carry it on? When the last time they’d seen each other was… That night? Or even after what Danyal had said? Love you. Present tense.
She was angry, she was. It was… Frustrating! How could he just say that, so easily? Love wasn’t a light word. It was heavy with meaning and commitment and other terrible, horrible things that created an automatic response for Mara to run in the opposite direction when she thought of them. She’d had so many people say they loved her and yet it always amounted to her getting hurt. Being hurt. And Danyal was no different. He’d done the same thing, like everyone else, on their wedding. He’d betrayed her trust.
How was she meant to make him understand that? How, when maybe what he’d done was right?
It was fucked up. It was so fucked up and - and wrong! The thought of someone actually knowing what was best for her that wasn’t herself? At a time when she’d been so desperate to find that part of herself? No! It wasn’t - it wasn’t fair, it wasn’t right!
… But here she was, sitting in hospital because of Dany. Because of the ties he’d forced her to have. She’d admitted to herself on the way back from the gym that she’d decided, once everything had imploded with her parents after the surgery, to come back to the Zafars, to New York, whether she’d wanted to or not. Of course Dany had been a part of that. She’d known he’d be back in New York for his birthday.
How could both things make sense in her head? Because they did. How could they?
What was she going to say to him? How was she meant to explain?
“I heard you on the phone.” Mara winced slightly, keeping her eyes trained on her hands, at the sound of that voice. A voice that only meant trouble. “You seemed… More awake than before, so I brought you coffee. If you wanted it, obviously.”
Mara nodded - before taking a silent, deep breath and looking up at him - the cause of all of the trouble, Danyal, hovering awkwardly in the doorway.
“You look terrible.” She mumbled, offering a half-smile. She wasn’t lying. Underneath Dany’s eyes were deep-set dark circles and he hadn’t shaved, his hair sticking up in odd places. Dany said nothing, standing there in his crumpled jumper and skinny jeans. “Here.” She motioned for the coffee.
Handing it to her carefully, Dany sat in the armchair that Mara just knew he’d slept in, pushing the blanket aside.
“I think we should-”
“Can we talk-”
They both stopped, hesitating awkwardly, for interrupting the other.
“Me first?” Mara asked, smiling politely as Dany nodded. She placed the coffee on the table - it was too hot - wincing slightly, and immediately ignoring how Dany seemed to want to reach out to help her. She sighed.
What was she meant to say? How was she meant to say it? Forget how much he may have heard - she couldn’t be bothered to think about how that was about to impact things. The more she thought, the more confused she’d become.
“It wasn’t some magical moment. Maybe that’s what’s making it so hard.” She finally began, hoping that, what she’d previously found to be Danyal’s annoying tendency to read her mind, would suddenly come in handy. If the way he seemed to tense was any indication, she was in luck. “And I know, I do, I know I should be used to that by now, but-”
“But what?” Dany interrupted, looking confused - and angry, too. Mara chewed on the inside of her lip, feeling like a child. “You thought, after everything that happened, you wouldn’t?”
“Not so soon.” She admitted quietly, ignoring how Dany began to shake his head. “Maybe not ever. Look, I’m - I’m trying here, I’m trying to be honest-”
“Not so soon?” Dany repeated, ignoring her. Mara sighed. “Not so soon? So you thought about it happening, at least?”
“Dan- Danyal, please-”
“You’ve just had corrective surgery for a kidney transplant you didn’t tell anyone about.” Dany told her seriously, clenching his jaw. “And now is when you choose to be honest?”
“That’s what you’re seriously upset about?” Mara asked in disbelief. Dany shook his head again, as if she was somehow the one missing the point. “Now? I’m finally having this conversation with you, one you say you’ve waited to have for so long-”
“I have-”
“Then why does this matter? Why does it matter that this is why we’re having it?!” Mara motioned with her hands to the hospital room.
“Because I’m meant to be looking after you!” Dany snapped - before sighing, as Mara shrunk slightly into the bed, his words… Frightening her. Not his tone. His words. For fuck’s sake, why did he keep saying things that just… Confused her more?! “I - what did you think? That marrying you and yes, yeah, I did hope that was how it would end and I shouldn’t have done it that way, but when I married you, did you think it was nothing? That I didn’t know what I was promising?”
Mara swallowed, trying to buy herself time.
“I - I don’t know.” She replied weakly, struggling to form coherent sentences when Danyal was looking at her so… Earnestly. “Maybe. I don’t know what went through your head-”
Dany laughed, though not because he found anything particularly funny.
“What went through my head was that I couldn’t lose you and you didn’t want to lose me and that was the only way I knew how to fix things, because you were too scared to understand your feelings.” Dany muttered, his voice laced with irritation. He was even scowling as he said it. Mara didn’t know what to say. “You know that-”
“No, I don’t-” At this point, she was arguing more on reflex than anything else.
“Why would you put yourself through this?” Dany demanded, setting his coffee aside. Mara sighed, collapsing against her pillows and closing her eyes. “Why would you give him a kidney after - after the way he treated you, after everything we did to get rid of him-”
“Everything you did.” Mara muttered to herself… And when there was no answer, she opened her eyes.
Dany was staring at her, temporarily speechless, with round, horrified eyes.
“If I did something wrong - if you changed your mind about your Dad when I told him to leave - Mara, I’m sorry-”
“Urgh, no, don’t do that. Don’t.” Mara groaned. The night of their wedding; when her father had shown up at their hotel and Dany had sent him away. “Don’t - whatever happened between me and him, it’s not something you should be apologising for, Christ-”
“Yes, it is, if I failed you-”
Mara immediately stared at him in disbelief - after staring in incredulity at the sky.
“This isn’t about you, Danyal! Or your pride! This is a decision I made, I’m a grown ass woman, I can handle my own decisions-”
“Urgh, Samara!” Dany groaned. “I’m not saying this is about me or my pride, I’m just - I was trying to help-”
“And in case you hadn’t noticed, Danyal, you trying to help me somehow never ends up the way you want it to.” Mara burst, unable to help the ironic peal of laughter that fell out too.
It was reflexive; at the sound of her laughter, wry and ironic but without the bitterness he’d already heard so many times… Dany managed a sad smile.
Something ached in Mara’s chest. It just felt so… Familiar.
Mara hid her face, pretending to focus on fiddling with the hospital sheets, to try and hide her tears.
“When did everything… Change?” She asked quietly - and immediately closed her eyes, blocking out the sight of Danyal opening his mouth so speak, knowing exactly what he was about to say. “Please… Don’t - say it, don’t repeat yourself. I can’t hear that again, not - not yet, I just-” She shook her head, her eyes still squeezed shut. She cringed even more, remembering how… Similar this conversation was, to one they’d had once before. “I - I genuinely don’t understand. We were nothing-”
“Nothing?” Dany repeated sharply.
Mara’s eyes flew open, only to squeeze in annoyance again - this time, at her own words.
“That’s not what I meant, I just - how can you even know that you mean it?” She tried to sound reasonable; she tried to sound… Fair. Instead, she just came out patronising. “Don’t look at me like that, Danyal!” That currently meant a poker face tinged with silent outrage. It was a look specific to the eldest Zafar sibling’s face. “You said you loved Divya. We went through that whole charade because of you saying that, constantly-”
Dany was already shaking his head before she’d finished talking.
“Samara, please tell me you’re not serious.” He said, setting his coffee cup aside. Mara rolled her eyes. Here we go. Why was it that every conversation they had ended up here? Frustrating and counterproductive?! “I know it’s different with you-”
“No, you don’t know, you don’t and that’s the whole point!” Mara burst - and fuck it, she was here now, this was happening, so why bother holding back? Where had that gotten her? Oh. Right. In hospital, in New York, struggling to say all the things she needed to with this idiot.
How many times had she gone through this? Imagined this scenario? Created a perfectly crafted script?
Internally, she sighed to herself. When was she just going to accept that her life wasn’t perfect?
“Have you ever just considered,” Samara said through greeted teeth, taking a deep breath and ignoring the slight dull ache she felt coming from her stomach. “That maybe, just maybe, Danyal, your view of love is a little bit skewered?” She continued quickly, seeing the indignation on Danyal’s face, raising her voice. “You grew up hearing about your parents. Your parents, who are not the rest of the world. Who had to deal with difficulties and strain in their relationship, before they were even together-”
“What is your point?” Dany interrupted. Mara took a deep breath as he stared at her, incredulous. “I know about my parents-”
“And you assumed that whatever you had with Divya was real, the first girl you’d ever been with, because it was difficult and you weren’t together yet and you assumed it was l - shit!”
Dany immediately stood to attention as Mara winced, the pain in her stomach sharper than before.
“I’m fine, I’m fine.” She lied, swatting Dany’s awkward, hovering hands away. Too tired to continue shouting, she motioned for him to sit on the bed - but he remained standing, eyeing her with a stern expression that, she knew, was just a mask for concern. “I just… You don’t know, Danyal. You jumped from her to me. That’s not…” The L-word lodged in her throat. “That sounds more like a rebound than anything else.”
“I know what this is.” Dany muttered, shaking his head. “Just because you don’t want to feel like you’re worth that, doesn’t make it any less true.”
Mara’s head jerked up at that. How did he do that? Get inside of her head, ruin everything? She wanted to have an answer! He’d leave the room in ten seconds and a million brilliant, witty scathing ones would enter her head - because ordinarily, they were already there -, but with him, everything was delayed. She wasn’t herself.
How could they have what he thought they did when she was a different person around him? Only him?
For once, pride worked to her strength; instead of looking away as her eyes filled up with tears, of frustration and anger and disappointment - and not just at him, at everything, at her parents, at her life, at being in a hospital bed sitting in front of Danyal Zafar at all - she stared at him belligerently, taking some comfort in the sadness that flitted across his face at her pain.
“I’m sorry, I-” Dany sighed, running a hand through his hair. She kept staring. She didn’t trust herself to stay in… Control, if she opened her mouth. She’d leant on him when she hadn’t wanted to enough times before. “You need rest and this isn’t helping, I’m sorry. I’ll… I’ll go.”
Samara pressed her lips together, hard, as with a sigh, Danyal headed for the door.
Hoe, don’t do it, she warned herself. Don’t you fucking dare, you a strong and independent young woman, don’t you dare - she repeated it over and over, hoping it would sink in.
He was halfway to the door when some of that slipped out.
“Don’t.” Not the part she wanted - and she felt it afresh, like she did every time she thought about their wedding, every time she was honest and it hurt. Disappointment in herself for being so weak. Fear that, just like he’d said, Danyal was right to know her better than she did herself.
A part of him almost wanted him to keep moving, as for a split second, he stilled in the middle of the room. It would make things easier. The lines wouldn’t be so blurred.
But he didn’t do that. Instead, as if he’d been planning on doing it all along, he immediately turned on his heel and sat back down in the armchair next to her bed.
Samara swallowed back her tears, telling herself it was from the anaesthetic that was still working wearing off, as she shuffled in bed, turning her head away from him.
As her shoulders tensed in her efforts to not cry, she felt Danyal’s hand on hers - and as much as she hated herself for it, as confusing and horrible and weak as she felt, she clutched it so hard back that she thought her bones may break.
She took a few minutes to try and compose herself - and if it hadn’t been for the vice-like grip still on his hand, Dany may have thought she’d fallen asleep.
“I miss my friend.” She finally admitted, her voice thick and heavy from emotions she hated on the regular. “I just want my friend back, Dany.”
Silent seconds, ones that felt like minutes, ticked by - and then, in a voice that was sure and strong and so similar to the voice she remembered from simpler, happier times, he replied -
“I haven’t gone anywhere.”
It made her feel physically sick to think that maybe, just maybe… Maybe this whole time, he had been right.
*
Conde Nast Headquarters, One World Trade Centre Manhattan, New York
“Hello, Esme. Is she busy?”
“Oh, hi, Mr Zafar!” Esme, on of Soph’s many, enthusiastic young assistants, beamed up at him. “The last I checked she was on a call to the board, but there’s nobody in there so go right ahead!”
Aman nodded, already halfway through the door.
“Yes, of course - no, absolutely.” Soph muttered, smiling as Aman, upon entering the office, bent down to kiss her on the forehead. She watched as he collapsed onto the sofa in the corner, throwing his blazer to the side and pulling on his tie. God forbid he would just take a board position and look after himself over the damned company. “No, honestly. Yes. Okay. Okay, bye.”
“Long day?” Aman asked, closing his eyes and letting his head rest against the sofa back - and not being at all surprised when, a few seconds later, he felt Soph slip under his arm, her head resting against his chest.
Soph hummed.
They sat there in silence for a few minutes, Aman’s arm falling from the sofa back to rub circles into Soph’s bare shoulder.
“I should have spoken to you first.” Aman finally said, looking down at her. Soph said nothing, looking up at him. “I’m sorry, I just… She was so excited. And I thought if I told her-”
“Aman, don’t pretend you didn’t manipulate Zarina’s interest in the land acquisition.” Soph huffed, shaking her head. Aman sighed as Soph pulled away, forcing him to face her. “What are you doing? She’d hate the idea of being lied to-”
“I don’t want her to feel pressured-”
“So you’re betraying her trust in you instead?”
“No, I’m not, she’s my daughter and I am trying to help her.” Aman said sternly. Soph shook her head. Aman sat up a little straighter. “Look at what happened with Raj! She felt pressured, she said no-”
“And I’ve told you, I don’t think that’s over-”
“She wants it to be and that’s all I need to know.” Aman replied quickly, sighing as Soph got to her feet and began to pace. “What have I done that’s so terrible? This way, she can get to know him and if they like each other-”
“Aman, she is going to feel ambushed! Even if she does end up liking him, taking away anything natural about it will make her run the other way-”
“You don’t know that-”
“Of course I do, she’s our daughter!” Soph laughed, without humour. “Of course she’ll run in the opposite direction! She throws herself into her work, just like we used to and ignores anyone telling her she needs anyone else, because she doesn’t want to believe it, and she shouldn’t-”
“She does not need this boy. Or any other boy. The only people she needs are her family.” Aman said sharply… And although it was in a voice that would have had anybody else quivering, the years had done nothing to Soph’s only response being an unimpressed expression. “But… But she could be happier! She shouldn’t feel like she has to feel alone, what’s wrong with me wanting that for her? You said so yourself, he sounds like a nice boy-”
“It’s not about us finding him nice, Aman.” Soph paused her pacing to stare at her husband in shock. “We didn’t choose each other and we ended up fine! Why can’t you trust her own judgements, her own taste?”
“I never said I didn’t-”
“No, you’re just deciding that this boy may be a good match for her and sending her, unknowingly, to meet him for what she thinks is a business meeting!” Soph scoffed. “Have you thought about what he may say to her? How she may feel like the business?”
“Do you honestly think I’m that stupid?” Aman huffed, smoothly reverting from English into Urdu… Which, to anyone else, signalled something serious. “Of course nobody thinks she’s there to… Meet him for that reason! They know she’s representing this company, this family-”
“And since when did people so easily accept a beautiful young girl only being interested in her career?” Soph challenged, matching his bilingualism.
“Other people living in the past isn’t my problem,” Aman said hotly, his temper flaring now, too. “Our daughter is a beautiful, intelligent, fantastic young woman who is an asset to any company she chooses to work for-”
“And if you trust her so much, she should be able to make this decision!”
“I’m not forcing her, Soph! If she likes him, then there’s nothing standing between them and if she doesn’t, so what?”
“How do you know she’ll like him? Just because he’s good for her on paper-”
“- we know our little girl-”
“The way we knew Tara?” Soph challenged, in English again - and Aman stared up at her in surprise, as if he’d been slapped, as her eyes began to take on a new, watery sheen. She slipped into Urdu again. “I’ve already lost one daughter on the assumption we know her, I’m not losing another one!”
“Tara made her own choices. Informed ones.” Aman said grimly, his jaw setting firmly. Ignoring Soph’s immediate head-shaking, he continued, staring at the floor. “No, don’t defend her. She knew what she was doing and Zarina is nothing like that, we can trust her, Tara chose not to be a part of this family-”
“Tara’s a child-”
“And look how much we tried to do for her, how we tried to help her.” The calm in Aman’s voice, after all these years, was no longer intimidating; nor was it comforting, for that matter. It was irritating, because it acted like an off-switch to Soph’s anger, whether she wanted it to or not. “Are you honestly telling me my shehzadi doesn’t deserve more? After what she’s endured? That she doesn’t deserve to have help in finding happiness?”
“Don’t you dare put those words in my mouth, Aman.” Soph warned. Before he could open his mouth to protest, she continued. “Of course I want those things for her! But the moment she knows we had any hand in this, she will feel pressured, to fake her own happiness for our sake-”
“If it works out with this boy, why does she have to know?” Her husband demanded, finally rising to his feet. Soph stared at him in disbelief. “I’m serious, don’t look so shocked! If she finds happiness with someone, why do we need to tell her she received help? Why do we need applause for it?”
“I’m not saying we do, but I’m pointing out how easily this could hurt her - and she’s going in blind, considering someone as a life partner versus a business associate are two very different things-”
“Was it different for us?”
Soph shot her husband a look of long-suffering.
“We weren’t looking to go into business with one another.”
“That’s not the point.” Aman said, half-smiling. Soph shook her head… Immediately fighting her own. “If she likes him, as a business partner or not, she’ll stay. And we know where she is, who she’s around and that she’s safe and that’s something I failed her in before.”
Soph’s shoulders sagged - and, forgetting everything else they’d said, she stepped forwards, cupping Aman’s face in her hands.
“Aman, listen to me.” She sighed, her eyes filling up with tears. “You can’t spend the rest of her life trying to make up for something that isn’t your fault. And if you failed her as a parent, then I did too-”
Aman shook his head, his jaw still clenched, as he fought back tears of his own. Even now, Soph hated seeing him like this; hurting, feeling like he’d failed. Not when she’d seen what real failures in a person looked like, and he’d been the one to pull her away.
“You’re not her father. I am. It was my job to protect her then and I didn’t, but in this way, I can.”
Soph shook her head - but, knowing nothing she could say would ever make any difference, silently pulled his neck downwards and pressed her forehead against his.
“Aman, just because she may stay for the challenge, doesn’t mean she could like him - or love him, or be happy with him-” Soph stopped, seeing the wry smile that began to flicker over Aman’s face, slowly replacing the sadness. “What?”
“She’s our daughter.” He told her quietly - confidently, too, as if she were missing the obvious. “If he’s the challenge to her I think he is, wanting to stay for the challenge and wanting to stay for him won’t be that different.”
Soph raised an eyebrow.
“Sounds as if someone’s talking from experience.” She sighed.
Aman pulled her close, before giving her soft, chaste kiss on the lips - one that, even years and children and life’s nightmares later, made Soph feel like she was in her twenties again, falling uncontrollably with a man she knew she shouldn’t. Free-fall. Even after all of this time, that kiss felt like free-fall.
“That’s how we found each other.”
“Not everyone’s like us.” Soph warned.
“No.” Aman agreed. “But she’ll do better.”
Soph sighed to herself internally as she clutched him close, wishing she could share his faith… But she couldn’t. Because she had a horrible feeling that, at that age, Ari was just like her.
*
New York to Islamabad, En Route Zafar Family Jet
Of their fourteen hour flight, there was only three left… And Ari was hoping to keep up the record so far, of her and Raj’s awkward silence.
She hadn’t wanted it to be awkward, of course. But it was.
The first few hours hadn’t been too bad; she’d been focused on work, prepping for her meeting. Pixie’s future father-in-law was the Minister of Culture; she’d already asked Pixie, who was already his darling favourite, to arrange for a quiet corner for them to discuss the project. After that, Ari could - as if she hadn’t already - set up a visit to Lahore over the next few days, amongst the wedding preparations, to meet the mysterious businessman behind the deal himself.
Ari chewed on the inside of her lip, glancing out of the window. She closed her eyes behind her sunglasses, feeling the warmth of the sun and the brightness of the sky on her face through the plastic-reinforced glass… And recited all of her research again.
A (presumably) filthy-rich businessman of the name Khalid Ahmed - at least, according to the documents on public record - had acquired the land underneath one of Pakistan’s major UNESCO Heritage Sites; the Lahore Fort and its surrounding Shalima Gardens, both of which had began to fall into further disrepair than age, due to the UNESCO financial scandal from almost twenty years prior.
The Pakistani government had offered to donate a significant sum to the renovations, provided UNESCO could provide the rest; but, unable to make such a commitment and under pressure to maintain other sites in Western countries, they had denied, causing a standstill. Without the UNESCO Heritage status, there was little anyone else would be able to do in terms of protecting it; but with a structure that had existed since the sixteenth century, the status meant nothing without the funds to keep it maintained.
Enter Mr Ahmed. He’d approached the Pakistani government and UNESCO as one, she remembered, offering to buy the land deep to the site. This, he’d argued in a written statement also found in public record, would give him a personal incentive to see the property on his land restored, using private funds and investors. His return would be rent paid, partly by UNESCO and the Pakistani government from the funds they’d hoped to spend on repairs, for a lease on the newly-bought land… And one of the most ambitious property deals in business history.
For the government, it worked out cheaper to pay towards a regular lease than the hassle of a full restoration, as well as the unexpected finances any big building project would accumulate. For UNESCO, it helped their PR nightmare in showing that people were still willing to work with them - even if it meant that their access to the project itself was riddled with fine print and where the money was used was beyond their control.
Despite all of this planning, however - and Ari couldn’t help but roll her eyes at the thought -, nobody had stopped to consider how they would announce this news to the public.
They had not been happy.
To many, even those perhaps not the most… Privileged, when it came to education, saw the Fort as a shining example of what had once been; of a rich and diverse cultural history shared with other parts of the region. In layman’s terms, it seemed as if Khalid Ahmed were buying a piece of history and capitalising on it - and seeing as political reform in Pakistan was still relatively new, it felt to many like a step backwards.
As Ari had mentioned to her father; it was a PR nightmare. An image of bulldozers and cranes heading into the gardens had been used by news outlets everywhere, even internationally; and not even Soph’s influence on trying to create a more balanced view had done much good. It also didn’t help that Mr Ahmed didn’t seem very… Camera-friendly; although it had taken the use of a private investigator, a very short look into his life had found a hedonistic, lavish lifestyle, including a thirteen-second video of Mr Ahmed at a club in Amsterdam, surrounded by sex workers.
Thankfully, nobody else had seen the footage; but his living in the shadows had only made the public more suspicious. As they’d been preparing to board, Ari had been reading a recent piece from the past twelve hours, questioning whether ‘Mr Ahmed’ was just a non-existent crime cover-up, as part of a laundering scheme.
It was made worse by the fact that ‘anonymous sources’ claimed, should Mr Ahmed be satisfied with this venture, he would be next settling his eyes on the Badshahi Mosque, also in Lahore; another centuries old structure known for its architecture and history, as well as still being an active place of worship.
That was what had turned the deal from a PR mess to Hell on Earth. Protestors had been camped outside of the Gardens for weeks, preventing workers from entering and destroying whatever equipment and supplies they could. Mr Ahmed had been forced to hire security teams to watch the site around the clock, which, even when not accounting for the over twenty hectares of land, had been of… Very little help.
Not that any of that mattered.
Ari knew she’d be able to fix all of that.
Zarina Zafar was Pakistan’s darling - and India’s too. She was young and attractive and always camera ready; stylish but not fashionable; modest but not outdated. She balanced her identities as Pakistani, Indian, English and Muslim all at once, with an air of naturalness that left the public breathless. She worked for her parents, had never been snapped or rumoured to be doing anything untoward and her private life was kept secret, despite her wide circle of celebrities and powerful figures being only complimentary.
She was considered the epitome of class, grace and mixed cultural identity in two nations that warred with the overpowering identity of the young Western man or woman. She was everything people wanted their children to be and, by some miracle, everything people her age wanted to be in the press; charming, put together and just the right amount of goofy on her Instagram stories.
Of course, the whole thing was an act - or, at least a large majority of it. Ari was in publishing, for God’s sake. She knew how to present an aesthetic.
And that was exactly what she would do with the Fort project. It would still require careful planning, of course, but it could be done - Ari convincing the public that this was in their interest, all the while supporting the Zafar family name. She could do it. She knew she could. It wasn’t cockiness or over-confidence - this was what Ari did every day at Vogue in London.
The only variable was how… Amiable Mr Ahmed would be to work with. Especially seeing as he was allergic to being in the public eye, which was already part of the problem.
Well… Part of the problem. Although it was a minor loophole at best, the Minister of Culture needed to approve the Zafars’ involvement in the project - and that was fine. But seeing as she hadn’t yet had the opportunity to visit Lahore, it would probably take some bluffing…
… That would be easier done if Ari had the safety net of being able to hang up.
She paused - before quickly texting Pixie, seeing if she could arrange the meeting for… Now.
Forget waiting around in Islamabad for a few days. Ari was too excited. Plus, realistically, once she was in Pixie’s sights, she wouldn’t be let out of them - not to mention Sarfaraz pressuring her to babysit Raj… And her brother and Samara could arrive at any moment…
Ari played a game of Tetris 4 - the entire family, save her mother, were locked in a fiercely competitive private league, of which Kabir held the title - as she waited for Pixie’s reply, purposefully not looking in Raj’s direction. A few times, she’d wanted to try and… Talk - the flight seemed like a wasted opportunity otherwise - but thankfully, her most useful trait had given her the wisdom not to.
Stubbornness; it was stubbornness - because if Raj was waiting for her to go back on their agreement of playing nice for Pixie’s wedding, he could wait forever.
Barely a few minutes later, Pixie had text her back, with a video meeting set for the next two minutes.
“Hey!” Ari hissed, throwing a pen - and landing it square in Raj’s temple - at her sleeping jet-mate, making him jump slightly and glare at her. “I’m on a business call, don’t interrupt me.”
With an irritated look that clearly highlighted he had been better off left asleep, Ari turned away and quickly patted down her hair - before pressing on the number Pixie had sent.
It answered on the second ring.
The Minister immediately greeted her in Arabic, to which Ari correctly responded.
“So, Miss Zafar, what can I do for you? Were we not set to meet once you landed?”
“Yes, sir, we were - but actually, I knew that once I landed for the wedding, I wouldn’t want to leave!” Ari immediately said, with her chirpiest voice and trademark smile. She didn’t see Raj glance sleepily over his shoulder at her - before smiling slightly as he fell back asleep. “And ultimately, we’re all in Islamabad for such a happy occasion, the less we have to discuss work the better, surely?”
“Of course.” Minister Bilal said kindly. “So you want to discuss your father’s corporation’s involvement with the Fort project?”
Ari sat a little straighter in her chair.
“Yes.” She said resolutely. “As you know, my family and I are deeply interested in preserving our country’s history and even on an international level, my mother has been recognised as a patron of the arts-”
“Miss Zafar.” Ari paused, quick to hide her confusion, as the Minister suddenly seemed… Awkward. “Your family’s involvement is not at question here. The government’s concern is, rather, about how you may be of service.”
Ari paused.
“Excuse me, but I’m not entirely sure I understand your meaning, Minister…” Ari said calmly, her nails digging into her palms underneath the table. If they were happy to have her involved in the project, why was she being forced to jump through hoops? “Are there any doubts in our integrity?”
Ari fought to not raise an eyebrow as the Minister quickly began to tut away such an accusation. Despite it being implied, Ari thought angrily.
Ari didn’t respond well to being questioned. Ever.
“You’re a very shrewd girl, Miss Zafar - and I would expect no less, given the family you come from.” Ari’s mind began to race, because she didn’t like this one bit. Despite knowing it was… Next to impossible, she began to wonder - was this about what had happened to her, in London? What if she was prepositioned? Or they thought she was weak because it had been kept hidden? She’d known this would come out eventually, she knew she would never be able to bury it deep enough - “But let’s not pretend - we don’t have the time amidst such a busy, happy occasion!”
Ari just about managed a polite smile.
“The bad press is bad for the government. It makes my job more difficult, when at this current time, I’d much rather it felt easy!” The Minister smiled. “At first, this… Khalid Ahmed character was an odd quirk for privacy. But the terrible way this has been handled - which you’ll improve, I’m sure - means that his privacy is no longer our concern. Especially after receiving certain… Intelligence. Bring the real man behind the plans into the light. This is my only condition of your involvement.”
… I’m sorry, what?
Thankfully, she stopped herself from saying that aloud.
Knowing the Minister was watching her much too carefully for her to relax, Ari simply decided on… Nodding, understandingly. If was better that he thought she was confused than totally lost, which was the truth - because the real man behind the plans? What the Hell did that mean?
Though the intelligence part? That must have been the video. Ari hadn’t found it too difficult to get hold of the video. She couldn’t imagine it would have been difficult for the Pakistani government, either.
“You do… Know the arrangement regarding Mr Ahmed’s role in the public eye, don’t you, dear?” Minister Bilal asked, his eyes narrowing slightly.
“Of course.” Ari replied easily… Lying through her teeth. She remembered the mega-watt smile of her father’s lawyer, Harvey and all of the lessons he’d taught her with it. “But we’re in the business of discretion. I don’t think it my place to comment, but now that I know what it is I can to do start-” Ari said shrewdly, making Minister Bilal laugh slightly. “- helping, consider it done.”
“It’s that simple?” He laughed. Ari shrugged, trying to feign her irritation as innocence. “Well, I have no reason to doubt you. And when I see you next, no talk of business - we’ll all be becoming family!”
“If God wills.” Ari replied in Arabic, her nails digging so hard into her palms under the table now that her hand was beginning to feel numb. “I’ll see you soon, Minister.”
“Would you like to talk to Pixie before you go?”
Ari fought not to roll her eyes. How transparent. As if she’d forgotten about the wedding; about how, if she messed this up, it could also affect her cousin.
… Okay, maybe she hadn’t realised the Minister would be so transparent (in an underhand sort of way) about it, but it was still insulting to have it done so obviously.
“No, thank you, Minister. It was a pleasure and we’ll all see each other soon.”
Ari had already hung up before he’d finished saying his goodbye.
Ari stared at her blank phone screen for a few moments, chewing on the inside of her lip. That… It hadn’t gone badly.
It also hadn’t gone particularly well.
She’d had her reservations about working with Khalid Ahmed after seeing the intel, for obvious reasons - and if you didn’t respect your business partner, what kind of foundation was that? - but now… She was frazzled. Secret identity? Who would be stupid enough to do that, let alone someone as dumb as whoever it was in the video - and these were questions that needed answering, only if she’d been right in understanding Minister Bilal.
The only person Ari wanted to ask for advice was her father. But she couldn’t. She had to prove she could do this, by herself…
“Everything okay?”
Ari didn’t bother to hide how she rolled her eyes at Raj’s voice.
“Yeah, thanks.”
“Ar - Zarina…” Ari sighed and glanced over to Raj, who was now watching her carefully. “If you need a hand-”
If she wasn’t taking her father’s help, she sure as Hell wasn’t taking her ex-lover’s.
“According to a financial report, two incredibly poor business decisions taken by you cost the Gemini Group almost a quarter of a billion dollars.” Ari interrupted, bored and irritated at having to say it at all. For Raj not knowing better than to keep things between them… Formal. They’d lasted this many hours, hadn’t they? In a compressed metal box in the air? Didn’t he know how to read a room? “I appreciate your offer of help, but I think it needn’t be more conscious than me doing the opposite of what you have recently.”
Yes, she was lashing out - and yes, she felt guilty. But she bit back her urge to apologise and swallowed it, because she and Raj were strictly business. Family business, for now. That was it. There needn’t be any more familiarity than required, thank you very much.
“I was going through a tough time.” Raj told her quietly, his jaw clenched.
Knowing exactly what he meant, Ari raised an eyebrow, turning away towards the window.
“Business is business.” Ari told him, surprised to find that, although she’d said it before… This time, she really meant it. Wasn’t that something? Maybe living in London again hadn’t been such a weak choice after all. “So it sounds pretty pathetic to me.”
Contrary to her last statement, Ari was not a fan of toxic masculinity; she’d suffered at the hands of it before, a thought that automatically made her fingers and toes curl. But she was a fan of Raj’s pride and the distance it would place between them… And judging by the angry stare Ari felt on her shoulder and Raj’s silence, it had worked.
Ari stared down at the brightly coloured fields below, fiddling with her fingers. She’d already made the meetings in Lahore. Who was she meeting with?
Raj would offer to come, if she gave him even the smallest of hints that something was… Sketchy. But she couldn’t be afraid forever. And anyway, who would dare mess with the people’s princess? A Zafar?
They’ve done it before, a solemn voice told her from deep inside of her head.
Ari swallowed. No. Not today.
Picking up her phone, she sent Samara a quick text; asking if she knew enough people in Pakistan to ask around for her. Samara’s nickname on Ari’s phone, the bored-looking emoji, immediately replaced her name upon Ari pressing on it.
Samara replied almost instantly.
> Are you joking? I’m sitting in a hospital bed.
Ari rolled her eyes.
I’m aware. Y/N?
> Probably not, I’m too white to be brown and vice versa. Bonus of being married to your brother. But who?
Ari, ignoring the last comment, typed quickly. From the corner of her eye, she saw Raj was trying to fall back asleep - properly this time.
Business deal stuff.
Thinking for a moment, she quickly added.
Don’t tell my brother. Trying to do this on my own.
Shit. Had she been stupid to ask? Was Samara going to tell Danyal out of pure spite? Ari had trust issues, of course, but she also had difficulty keeping her mouth shut when she wanted something - but surely Samara would understand independence, surely -
> Sure. Ari breathed a small sigh of relief. Her brother would freak out if she knew anything about what Minister Bilal had just said. Actually, it was probably a good thing that, by the time he and Samara arrived in Pakistan and he did find out, theoretically, Ari would have sorted out the whole mess and would be working on the actual project rather than… Silly little politics between silly little boys. The best person to ask would be Tabby, though and it’ll look more suss if I ask than you in random conversation. Ari frowned. Tabina? Samara’s cousin? You okay with that?
Knowing Samara would know better than to be offended - or had been so many times, that she’d stopped caring, Ari replied - which one’s Tabby? All of Samara’s cousins, the set of sisters she’d lived with in New York - her uncle’s children -, looked the same. Tall, dark haired, elfin.
> The one dating Raj.
Now, Ari was usually very in control of her emotions and expressions. It had taken years of trauma and emotional pain to do so and she was pretty proud of it. But in that moment, reading Samara’s last message, Ari physically jerked back, staring at her phone as if a sign had just flashed over the screen calling her poor and ugly.
What?
Her fingers began to fly over the screen, even faster than before -
What? Since when? I didn’t recognise her!
Back in New York, Mara sighed to herself, before going into her pictures; one of her and her cousins a few years ago, and another of Raj… And the girl, Ari realised, she’d seen him with when Sy had taken her to his apartment when she’d landed in New York.
> Nose job, lip fillers, some other shit.
Who is her surgeon?? Ari replied frantically. I didn’t recognise her and I *know* plastic procedures.
Mara shook her head.
> She spent a lot of money on a lot of procedures. Are you going to ask her?
Ari made a face of disgust, again, too preoccupied with Samara’s message to mask it. She didn’t care if Raj saw.
No thank you. And then, after a second thought - I’d rather stick pins in my eyes. She watched curiously as the typing icon appeared, disappeared and then reappeared. Great. Offended?
Finally, she received Samara’s message - and couldn’t help but smile slightly at the crying with laughter and passive-aggressive smile emojis in droves, with no text.
Ari sent the grumpy one back… And, on a whim, wished Samara well soon. She set her phone back down on the table before Samara could reply.
That was enough friendliness for a little while… And anyway. Apparently, they both had more important things to do.
About A Girl: Chapter Two
Happy reading :) I actually am quite looking forward to this, so... Let me know what you think!
- henbee xo

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About A Girl: Chapter One
You guys wanted Zafar-orientated… So here ya go.
Keep reading
SURPRISE BITCHES NEW MODOSPHERE STORY WHATTUP
About A Girl: Chapter One
You guys wanted Zafar-orientated... So here ya go.
the end: a dara drabble
I’m so sorry this took so long! I’ve been really iffy about it and the whole broken wrist thing hasn’t helped the drafting process... But here it is.
Enjoy! Give feedback! And more details of the new story (if you’re still interested - let me know!) soon!
... looks a lot like a tragedy now: a dara drabble
So I know I said this would be the final drabble, but I couldn’t sit on it with so much done, so I shall update the (actual) last one very shortly!
Also... Urgh, I hate myself, because basically, this entire series has made me want to continue a final version/part of the MODosphere, but different to what I wrote before (more Zafar-focused), so if anyone would be interested in that, please let me know! I play myself sometimes, I swear...
Happy reading guys!! I hope you enjoy it :)
and the story of us...: a dara drabble
The third (and penultimate) of the Dara wedding drabbles! Apologies for the delay, but I really didn’t want to cut this up further and I wanted to do it justice... Hopefully the ending will make up for it :)
Let me know what you think! Remember, I’m like Tinkerbell. I need applause to live.
- hen_bee xo
PS. riddled with errors, as I didn’t have time to proof read. I’m sorry!!

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Is It Killing You?: A Dara Drabble
The second instalment of the Dara wedding drabbles! Sorry it took so long, but the next one will be out veeeerryyy soon :) enjoy! And please let me know what you think!
*
Another World: A Zoph Drabble
To be read between Chapters 10 & 11 of Turn Right
Warning: contains mature content