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, sheâd been diagnosed with a hernia caused by not looking after herself properly after the transplant surgery - and within a few hours, sheâd been in theatre. Mara wasnât 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. Heâd even stayed during her stomach being examined by the doctor - a Doctor Kaiser who, Mara was sure, was exactly the clinicâs namesake - when sheâd told him not to, which had led to her clutching onto his hand as she tried not to cry out in pain. Even when sheâd first been wheeled out of surgery, she knew heâd been there; she couldnât remember much, just his voice⌠And a hand on her forehead.
You know. The exact kind of thing she didnât 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.
âThe fact youâre calling me means youâre not on a flight, which means youâre not coming, which means your drama with my idiot cousin means youâre not attending my wedding-â
âPixie, please.â Mara groaned, her limbs still feeling heavy. She tapped the loudspeaker and prayed Danyal wouldnât be back anytime soon. She didnât think heâd left the hospital - not for a second - but that confidence was confusing, and her brain felt foggy enough already from the anaesthetic. âHave you spoken to Zarina yet? Danyal said heâd call her.â
âSome shitty excuse about you being hospitalised?â Pixie asked haughtily - but Mara smiled slightly, at the tiny glimpse of concern sheâd heard. âYes. Youâre an idiot.â There was a small pause. âAre you okay?â
âIâm fine, I just canât do much for a few weeks. But I promised Iâd show off my badass dancing skills for the wedding and I promise you, itâll happen. It just means I need to take it easy here first. Iâll still help from here however I can.â
âYouâre still coming?â Mara mumbled in agreement, still smiling as she heard the hope in Pixieâs voice. âWell⌠Then of course you should look after yourself. Be careful.â Mara shook her head slightly, as she practically heard Pixie throw her hair over her shoulder. âObviously you canât be ill and like, embarrass me or whatever. Whatâs even wrong with you?â
âI had a hernia repair.â
âA hernia? Donât old men get that? Why do you have one?â
âIâm extraordinarily special and I decided I needed to steal some of the limelight away from your Bridezilla routine.â Mara teased, shifting slightly to be more comfortable. Her throat was a little dry and her head was still not great, but sheâd be fine. In fact, she didnât feel any pain at all. âActually⌠Pix, do you have a few seconds? To talk?â
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 shopaholicâs dream - fast approaching.
âOf course.â 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. Theyâd been stuck in traffic heading towards the Centurion for the past forty-five minutes. It didnât 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. âHow can I help?â
This time, it was Mara who hesitated.
Sheâd lost a lot of friends, in becoming Mrs Danyal Zafar. To all of the friends sheâd grown up with or made in New York, before meeting Dany⌠Sheâd 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 theyâd thought that. She and Danyal, for lack of a better term, had been building their brand. Everyone was supposed to fall for it. If theyâd done a good enough job to fool the Zafars, even now, was she surprised that her friends had, too?
Not to say it wasnât⌠Shitty. She hadnât noticed the distance so much when she and Danyal had still been playing their stupid, stupid game, but⌠Once sheâd 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 sheâd faked and lost to get it - when even that wasnât as simple as it should have been.
She didnât 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⌠Couldnât understand. No therapist would be paid enough, or have the patience, to follow the complications of Maraâs 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 sheâd grown - except the people in it, the people Mara resented for being a part of something that trapped her.
At least, thatâs how you felt before, Mara reminded herself. Youâve changed. Youâve 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⌠Sheâd 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 hadnât 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.
âDo you remember when you asked me the real reason why I left Danyal when I did? After the wedding?â
âAnd you fed me some bullshit excuse about a moment of clarity between throwing up vodka shots?â Pixie snorted - before pausing and settling comfortably into her seat as her chauffeur headed for the motorway. ââŚYes. I take it Iâm about to hear the real story? This is excitingâŚâ
Mara frowned, glancing at the closed door of her room again.
âMaybe a bit too much, Pix.â
*
Red Light District SoHo, London Three Years Ago
âI cannot believe you just did that.â
âOh, relax.â Samara giggled, stumbling slightly on her studded red Valentinoâs. Immediately, Danyalâs 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. âOh, what is your problem? We were having fun-â
âFun?â Danyal repeated, whirling around to face her. âYou, alongside with everyone elseâs significant other, got onto the stage and started dancing with the-â
âWith the pole dancers? Strippers? Or are you going to be diplomatic and call them exotic?â Mara snorted, using air quotes above her - before giggling to herself some more. âGet over yourselves! All of you! What, you drag us all to a strip club for drinks-â
âI didnât know we were going-â
âAnd all of the significant others, girls and boys alike, are meant to sit there meekly and not have our own fun?â Mara snorted. âI saved the night! You saw how much fun we had up there on stage, everyone loved us-â
Dany clenched his fists and kept walking, trying his best to drown her out.
âOh, oh, whatâre you going to say now, hmm?â Mara called after him. Reluctantly, he pulled to a stop - she was getting louder and with the silence around them, it only seemed worse. âThat I embarrassed you? Is that it?â
âI never said that.â Danyal muttered, more to himself than Mara. Unluckily for him, she happened to hear.
âIs that why we had to run out and leave so early? Why you needed me to make excuses for you?â 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 theyâd 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. âBecause your ego got bruised that, seeing as weâre not at the turn of the century, you and your Neanderthals couldnât just ogle at those dancers in peace? At least we all gave you a show, itâs not my fault youâve got the goods and are now too afraid to touch them - well, me, I mean, obviously -â
âGet in the car.â 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. âSamara, please, can you just get into the car? Please?â
And then, much to his relief, she slowly began to walk towards himâŚ
⌠Before slamming the door heâd been holding open shut and snatching the keys from his fingers, twirling them on her own.
âYouâre absolutely ridiculous if you think youâre driving in this state.â 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 didnât play his cards right, theyâd be out here all night, bickering like schoolchildren because Drunk Samara found it funny.
âIs that the real reason?â Samara asked, her eyes glinting in the light. Dany stared down at her impatiently as she stepped closer. âIt is, isnât it? I was right when I gave that crappy excuse when I saw you were on the verge of a tantrum. Thatâs why youâre pissed.â Mara laughed as Danyâs 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. âYou saw us all goofing around on that stage, saw everyone watching, and you hated it.â She moved closer still, her voice dropping slightly. Underneath her arm, she felt Danyâs shoulders tense. âBecause in that moment, all you wanted⌠Was for me to be doing that with just you watching, in our bedroom.â Samara murmured, so close now that her chest was brushing against his. âThatâs the real reason, right?â She tilted her head slightly, triumph radiating from her as soon as Dany looked away again. âOr am I wrong?â
The last few words were whispered, her breath - smelling sweet, with an alcoholic tinge - warm on his neck.
He couldnât help it. He couldnât have.
He showed weakness - he swallowed.
Maraâs smirk grew.
âYou know, if you want me so badly,â 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. âIâm right here.â
Mara raised an eyebrow as Danyâs facade broke - the perfectly blank, almost bored expression making way for pure confusion and wide eyes.
âYouâre - youâre drunk.â Dany said uncertainly, careful to keep her at arms distance. Mara only smiled. âJust - just get into the car and you can - sleep it off-â
âYou know, I kind of just donât feel like doing that?â 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 wasnât wrong. Of course she wasnât - 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 didnât look beautiful tonight. Well, she did - of course she did, she always did to Dany -, but this was more than that. So⌠Much more.
Theyâd had to share the bedroom at the Zafar house while the other members of the family were still there; but theyâd 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 wasnât some kind of animal, he could control himself. Of course heâd wait.
But heâd been so preoccupied with Maraâs feelings, that heâd forgotten everything else.
Until heâd seen her on that stage.
Heâd known, as sheâd swayed her hips in time to the music and elicited hoots of approval from customers and dancers alike, that sheâd been doing it for him. To piss him off, to get his attention. If heâd doubted the attention part before, he certainly wasnât now.
He didnât want to look at her the way he was right then. He didnât. But he couldnât help himself.
Because sheâd been right.
She was in short black dungarees, a tight-fitting cropped white T-shirt that showed off her dancerâs body and siren red lipstick to match her high heels. Now, Dany watched as she pulled her hair from the messy ponytail sheâd kept it in, shaking it slightly at the roots as it fell into natural, tousled waves.
He hated how he couldnât 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.
âYouâre really pretending to not think about it?â Mara finally asked knowingly.
âYouâre drunk, you donât know what youâre saying.â Dany replied robotically. What did he do? What was happening? What did he do?
Mara smirked again.
âIâm really not as drunk as Iâm letting you think I am.â
He wished.
âIf you were sober at all, you would not be suggestingâŚâ His confidence faltered as he struggled to find the right words, Mara watched him with raised eyebrows. âYou wouldnât be coming up with this kind of⌠Plan.â He finished feebly.
âNo, if anything, it proves how aware I am. Itâs ideal, really.â 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. âI mean, weâre both incredibly frustrated at how things have turned out, arenât we? Me in my gilded cage, you my keeper.â
Danyal rolled his eyes.
âThis is a way of⌠Releasing that frustration.â 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 wasnât as wobbly on her feet as before. âI think itâs really rather sensible. Well done me.â
Dany shook his head, as Mara stared up at him from underneath those damned eyelashes, chewing on the inside of her lip.
âWhatever point it is you think youâre trying to prove-â Dany clamped his mouth shut as Mara yanked him forward by the belt loop of his jeans.
âI donât need to prove a point, you already did it for me by manoeuvring that hot mess people are calling a wedding.â 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 didnât quite know why he couldnât look at Samara⌠And yet he knew the more space between them, the better. âI know you find me attractive and I know the only thing that stopped you before was this knight complex you have going on-â
This time, Dany did look at her - with incredulity. âWhat? Thatâs what you think?â
â- 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-â 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 didnât go unnoticed, seeing as Danyâs whole body seemed to tense. â- I am a little drunk, but only enough to know that I would be too proud to say this sober.â No reaction. Mara sighed. âLet me put it this way - I want someoneâs hands on me and itâd be in your best interests for those hands to be yours.â
Danyâs face remained the same - that frustrating impassive -, but Mara smirked to herself as she felt his breathing get heavier against her chest.
âWhy do I feel like Iâll regret this later?â Dany finally said - and just like that, Maraâs mouth went from a smirk to a full blown, Cheshire cat smile. âSo whatâs your plan? You wonât get in the car-â
âI mean, weâre 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.â Mara quipped - and even though it was the very last thing he wanted to do, as their eyes met, Dany couldnât 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.
Maraâs breathing⌠Stuttered slightly as, as carefully as if she were made of glass, Danyâs hands moved from her hips to her ass, pushing the two of them closer.
Maraâs slapped her hands over his as his fingers spread, ignoring the tingling she suddenly felt from her throat down to her ankles.
âNice try, but you donât get those keys until you pick a side.â
Danyâs 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?
âOh, fuck this.â Dany finally muttered - and Mara laughed into his mouth as she found it smashed against hers.
Within seconds, she was squashed between Danyalâs 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 Danyalâs 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 couldnât 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 couldnât help a smug smile.
âYouâre a - youâre an - an - asshole.â 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. Thatâs 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 didnât want to stop. Â âPut - put me d- the car -â
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 Danyâs hair sticking up in odd places and with red lipstick smudged all over the both of them, made their eyes sparkle with lust.
*
âSo you fucked him in the red Corvette?â Pixie gasped, scandalised. âThat is my favourite car, you tramp-â
Back in New York, Mara began to splutter at the phone in horror.
âWh - I - no! No!â She said quickly. Why had she decided to tell Pixie this, again?! âNo, no, we did not fuck in the Corvette, oh my God, Pix!â
âWell, then, what happened next? Details, now, I honestly didnât know my cousin had it in him-â
Mara grimaced at her use of the word cousin.
âNo. No more details.â 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 sheâd allowed herself to remember were⌠Were times when sheâd been alone, in the dark and in bed, using the memory recreationally and knowing full well the disgust and embarrassment sheâd 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 sheâd deliberately stared at him, breathing heavy, as her hand had slipped under her dungarees (Mara cringed to think it). They hadnât 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.
âSo is this the real reason why you stopped drinking?â
Peering between her fingers, Mara stared at the phone incredulously.
âUm, yes, is that not enough of a reason?â Mara huffed. âI - I - I woke up the next day, realised what an utter⌠Moron Iâd been and I got the Hell out of there-â
âWhy are you telling me this, Sammy? Hmm?â Pixie was the only person to call Samara Sammy, the same way Mara was the only one to call Pixie Pix. She sighed. âWhat? You want to do it again? Pick up where you left off?â
âIs this not weird for you to even say out loud?â Mara groaned. âHow can you be so - so⌠No, I donât want a repeat, I just-â
âOh my God, you so do, I can hear how thirsty you are and Iâm a continent away.â Pixie cackled gleefully. âWhatâs stopping you?â
âI donât know, Pix, the imminent threat of departure?!â
âAre you planning on leaving him, then? For sure?â
âI- I donât know, I just-â Mara struggled helplessly. âBut weâre meant to talk and after that happened, I just - I just needed someone to understand that - itâs - itâs complicated, how are we meant to talk without actually talking about that-â
âThen donât talk about it, use your hospital time to do the opposite of talking-â
âNo, Pix, I donât know what to do-â
âWhat you want! Do what you want, Sammy, youâre 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!â
âYouâre not - I told you, itâs more complicated-â
âMaybe more than I thought before, but nothing a quickie in the Corvette canât fix.â
âYouâre the worst, you are being of no help at all, where is the emotional support-â
âHoney, you didnât become friends with me for emotional support. You became friends with me because I donât spout bullshit.â Pixie told her smugly. âNow, Iâm bored of this conversation. Keep me posted and get well soon. Bye.â
âWait, I-â Mara began - but the call had already ended, leaving Mara alone in the silent hospital room. âThatâs⌠Awesome.â Mara muttered to herself, sighing.
Pixie didnât 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 couldnât have, even if they needed to, because she didnât know where she stood in it.
So far, sheâd managed to dodge discussing⌠Everything, any of it, but now? Now how was she meant to carry it on? When the last time theyâd 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 wasnât 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. Sheâd had so many people say they loved her and yet it always amounted to her getting hurt. Being hurt. And Danyal was no different. Heâd done the same thing, like everyone else, on their wedding. Heâd betrayed her trust.
How was she meant to make him understand that? How, when maybe what heâd 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 wasnât herself? At a time when sheâd been so desperate to find that part of herself? No! It wasnât - it wasnât fair, it wasnât right!
⌠But here she was, sitting in hospital because of Dany. Because of the ties heâd forced her to have. Sheâd admitted to herself on the way back from the gym that sheâd decided, once everything had imploded with her parents after the surgery, to come back to the Zafars, to New York, whether sheâd wanted to or not. Of course Dany had been a part of that. Sheâd known heâd 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?
âI heard you on the phone.â Mara winced slightly, keeping her eyes trained on her hands, at the sound of that voice. A voice that only meant trouble. âYou seemed⌠More awake than before, so I brought you coffee. If you wanted it, obviously.â
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.
âYou look terrible.â She mumbled, offering a half-smile. She wasnât lying. Underneath Danyâs eyes were deep-set dark circles and he hadnât shaved, his hair sticking up in odd places. Dany said nothing, standing there in his crumpled jumper and skinny jeans. âHere.â She motioned for the coffee.
Handing it to her carefully, Dany sat in the armchair that Mara just knew heâd slept in, pushing the blanket aside.
âI think we should-â
âCan we talk-â
They both stopped, hesitating awkwardly, for interrupting the other.
âMe first?â 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 couldnât be bothered to think about how that was about to impact things. The more she thought, the more confused sheâd become.
âIt wasnât some magical moment. Maybe thatâs whatâs making it so hard.â She finally began, hoping that, what sheâd previously found to be Danyalâs annoying tendency to read her mind, would suddenly come in handy. Â If the way he seemed to tense was any indication, she was in luck. âAnd I know, I do, I know I should be used to that by now, but-â
âBut what?â Dany interrupted, looking confused - and angry, too. Mara chewed on the inside of her lip, feeling like a child. âYou thought, after everything that happened, you wouldnât?â
âNot so soon.â She admitted quietly, ignoring how Dany began to shake his head. âMaybe not ever. Â Look, Iâm - Iâm trying here, Iâm trying to be honest-â
âNot so soon?â Dany repeated, ignoring her. Mara sighed. âNot so soon? So you thought about it happening, at least?â
âDan- Danyal, please-â
âYouâve just had corrective surgery for a kidney transplant you didnât tell anyone about.â Dany told her seriously, clenching his jaw. âAnd now is when you choose to be honest?â
âThatâs what youâre seriously upset about?â Mara asked in disbelief. Dany shook his head again, as if she was somehow the one missing the point. âNow? Iâm finally having this conversation with you, one you say youâve waited to have for so long-â
âI have-â
âThen why does this matter? Why does it matter that this is why weâre having it?!â Mara motioned with her hands to the hospital room.
âBecause Iâm meant to be looking after you!â Dany snapped - before sighing, as Mara shrunk slightly into the bed, his words⌠Frightening her. Not his tone. His words. For fuckâs sake, why did he keep saying things that just⌠Confused her more?! âI - what did you think? That marrying you and yes, yeah, I did hope that was how it would end and I shouldnât have done it that way, but when I married you, did you think it was nothing? That I didnât know what I was promising?â
Mara swallowed, trying to buy herself time.
âI - I donât know.â She replied weakly, struggling to form coherent sentences when Danyal was looking at her so⌠Earnestly. âMaybe. I donât know what went through your head-â
Dany laughed, though not because he found anything particularly funny.
âWhat went through my head was that I couldnât lose you and you didnât 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.â Dany muttered, his voice laced with irritation. He was even scowling as he said it. Mara didnât know what to say. âYou know that-â
âNo, I donât-â At this point, she was arguing more on reflex than anything else.
âWhy would you put yourself through this?â Dany demanded, setting his coffee aside. Mara sighed, collapsing against her pillows and closing her eyes. âWhy would you give him a kidney after - after the way he treated you, after everything we did to get rid of him-â
âEverything you did.â 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.
âIf I did something wrong - if you changed your mind about your Dad when I told him to leave - Mara, Iâm sorry-â
âUrgh, no, donât do that. Donât.â Mara groaned. The night of their wedding; when her father had shown up at their hotel and Dany had sent him away. âDonât - whatever happened between me and him, itâs not something you should be apologising for, Christ-â
âYes, it is, if I failed you-â
Mara immediately stared at him in disbelief - after staring in incredulity at the sky.
âThis isnât about you, Danyal! Or your pride! This is a decision I made, Iâm a grown ass woman, I can handle my own decisions-â
âUrgh, Samara!â Dany groaned. âIâm not saying this is about me or my pride, Iâm just - I was trying to help-â
âAnd in case you hadnât noticed, Danyal, you trying to help me somehow never ends up the way you want it to.â 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 heâd already heard so many times⌠Dany managed a sad smile.
Something ached in Maraâs 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.
âWhen did everything⌠Change?â 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. âPlease⌠Donât - say it, donât repeat yourself. I canât hear that again, not - not yet, I just-â She shook her head, her eyes still squeezed shut. She cringed even more, remembering how⌠Similar this conversation was, to one theyâd had once before. âI - I genuinely donât understand. We were nothing-â
âNothing?â Dany repeated sharply.
Maraâs eyes flew open, only to squeeze in annoyance again - this time, at her own words.
âThatâs not what I meant, I just - how can you even know that you mean it?â She tried to sound reasonable; she tried to sound⌠Fair. Instead, she just came out patronising. âDonât look at me like that, Danyal!â That currently meant a poker face tinged with silent outrage. It was a look specific to the eldest Zafar siblingâs face. âYou said you loved Divya. We went through that whole charade because of you saying that, constantly-â
Dany was already shaking his head before sheâd finished talking.
âSamara, please tell me youâre not serious.â 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?! âI know itâs different with you-â
âNo, you donât know, you donât and thatâs the whole point!â 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 wasnât perfect?
âHave you ever just considered,â Samara said through greeted teeth, taking a deep breath and ignoring the slight dull ache she felt coming from her stomach. âThat maybe, just maybe, Danyal, your view of love is a little bit skewered?â She continued quickly, seeing the indignation on Danyalâs face, raising her voice. âYou 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-â
âWhat is your point?â Dany interrupted. Mara took a deep breath as he stared at her, incredulous. âI know about my parents-â
âAnd you assumed that whatever you had with Divya was real, the first girl youâd ever been with, because it was difficult and you werenât together yet and you assumed it was l - shit!â
Dany immediately stood to attention as Mara winced, the pain in her stomach sharper than before.
âIâm fine, Iâm fine.â She lied, swatting Danyâs 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. âI just⌠You donât know, Danyal. You jumped from her to me. Thatâs notâŚâ The L-word lodged in her throat. âThat sounds more like a rebound than anything else.â
âI know what this is.â Dany muttered, shaking his head. âJust because you donât want to feel like youâre worth that, doesnât make it any less true.â
Maraâs head jerked up at that. How did he do that? Get inside of her head, ruin everything? She wanted to have an answer! Heâd 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 wasnât 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.
âIâm sorry, I-â Dany sighed, running a hand through his hair. She kept staring. She didnât trust herself to stay in⌠Control, if she opened her mouth. Sheâd leant on him when she hadnât wanted to enough times before. âYou need rest and this isnât helping, Iâm sorry. Iâll⌠Iâll go.â
Samara pressed her lips together, hard, as with a sigh, Danyal headed for the door.
Hoe, donât do it, she warned herself. Donât you fucking dare, you a strong and independent young woman, donât 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.
âDonât.â 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 heâd 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 wouldnât be so blurred.
But he didnât do that. Instead, as if heâd 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 Danyalâs 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 hadnât been for the vice-like grip still on his hand, Dany may have thought sheâd fallen asleep.
âI miss my friend.â She finally admitted, her voice thick and heavy from emotions she hated on the regular. âI just want my friend back, Dany.â
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 -
âI havenât gone anywhere.â
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
âHello, Esme. Is she busy?â
âOh, hi, Mr Zafar!â Esme, on of Sophâs many, enthusiastic young assistants, beamed up at him. âThe last I checked she was on a call to the board, but thereâs nobody in there so go right ahead!â
Aman nodded, already halfway through the door.
âYes, of course - no, absolutely.â 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, Â 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. âNo, honestly. Yes. Okay. Okay, bye.â
âLong day?â 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, Amanâs arm falling from the sofa back to rub circles into Sophâs bare shoulder.
âI should have spoken to you first.â Aman finally said, looking down at her. Soph said nothing, looking up at him. âIâm sorry, I just⌠She was so excited. And I thought if I told her-â
âAman, donât pretend you didnât manipulate Zarinaâs interest in the land acquisition.â Soph huffed, shaking her head. Aman sighed as Soph pulled away, forcing him to face her. âWhat are you doing? Sheâd hate the idea of being lied to-â
âI donât want her to feel pressured-â
âSo youâre betraying her trust in you instead?â
âNo, Iâm not, sheâs my daughter and I am trying to help her.â Aman said sternly. Soph shook her head. Aman sat up a little straighter. âLook at what happened with Raj! She felt pressured, she said no-â
âAnd Iâve told you, I donât think thatâs over-â
âShe wants it to be and thatâs all I need to know.â Aman replied quickly, sighing as Soph got to her feet and began to pace. âWhat have I done thatâs so terrible? This way, she can get to know him and if they like each other-â
âAman, 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-â
âYou donât know that-â
âOf course I do, sheâs our daughter!â Soph laughed, without humour. âOf course sheâll 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 doesnât want to believe it, and she shouldnât-â
âShe does not need this boy. Or any other boy. The only people she needs are her family.â Aman said sharply⌠And although it was in a voice that would have had anybody else quivering, the years had done nothing to Sophâs only response being an unimpressed expression. âBut⌠But she could be happier! She shouldnât feel like she has to feel alone, whatâs wrong with me wanting that for her? You said so yourself, he sounds like a nice boy-â
âItâs not about us finding him nice, Aman.â Soph paused her pacing to stare at her husband in shock. âWe didnât choose each other and we ended up fine! Why canât you trust her own judgements, her own taste?â
âI never said I didnât-â
âNo, youâre 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!â Soph scoffed. âHave you thought about what he may say to her? How she may feel like the business?â
âDo you honestly think Iâm that stupid?â Aman huffed, smoothly reverting from English into Urdu⌠Which, to anyone else, signalled something serious. âOf course nobody thinks sheâs there to⌠Meet him for that reason! They know sheâs representing this company, this family-â
âAnd since when did people so easily accept a beautiful young girl only being interested in her career?â Soph challenged, matching his bilingualism.
âOther people living in the past isnât my problem,â Aman said hotly, his temper flaring now, too. âOur daughter is a beautiful, intelligent, fantastic young woman who is an asset to any company she chooses to work for-â
âAnd if you trust her so much, she should be able to make this decision!â
âIâm not forcing her, Soph! If she likes him, then thereâs nothing standing between them and if she doesnât, so what?â
âHow do you know sheâll like him? Just because heâs good for her on paper-â
â- we know our little girl-â
âThe way we knew Tara?â Soph challenged, in English again - and Aman stared up at her in surprise, as if heâd been slapped, as her eyes began to take on a new, watery sheen. She slipped into Urdu again. âIâve already lost one daughter on the assumption we know her, Iâm not losing another one!â
âTara made her own choices. Informed ones.â Aman said grimly, his jaw setting firmly. Ignoring Sophâs immediate head-shaking, he continued, staring at the floor. âNo, donât 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-â
âTaraâs a child-â
âAnd look how much we tried to do for her, how we tried to help her.â The calm in Amanâs 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 Sophâs anger, whether she wanted it to or not. âAre you honestly telling me my shehzadi doesnât deserve more? After what sheâs endured? That she doesnât deserve to have help in finding happiness?â
âDonât you dare put those words in my mouth, Aman.â Soph warned. Before he could open his mouth to protest, she continued. âOf 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-â
âIf it works out with this boy, why does she have to know?â Her husband demanded, finally rising to his feet. Soph stared at him in disbelief. âIâm serious, donât 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?â
âIâm not saying we do, but Iâm pointing out how easily this could hurt her - and sheâs going in blind, considering someone as a life partner versus a business associate are two very different things-â
âWas it different for us?â
Soph shot her husband a look of long-suffering.
âWe werenât looking to go into business with one another.â
âThatâs not the point.â Aman said, half-smiling. Soph shook her head⌠Immediately fighting her own. âIf she likes him, as a business partner or not, sheâll stay. And we know where she is, who sheâs around and that sheâs safe and thatâs something I failed her in before.â
Sophâs shoulders sagged - and, forgetting everything else theyâd said, she stepped forwards, cupping Amanâs face in her hands.
âAman, listen to me.â She sighed, her eyes filling up with tears. âYou canât spend the rest of her life trying to make up for something that isnât your fault. And if you failed her as a parent, then I did too-â
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 heâd failed. Not when sheâd seen what real failures in a person looked like, and heâd been the one to pull her away.
âYouâre not her father. I am. It was my job to protect her then and I didnât, but in this way, I can.â
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.
âAman, just because she may stay for the challenge, doesnât mean she could like him - or love him, or be happy with him-â Soph stopped, seeing the wry smile that began to flicker over Amanâs face, slowly replacing the sadness. âWhat?â
âSheâs our daughter.â He told her quietly - confidently, too, as if she were missing the obvious. âIf heâs the challenge to her I think he is, wanting to stay for the challenge and wanting to stay for him wonât be that different.â
Soph raised an eyebrow.
âSounds as if someoneâs talking from experience.â She sighed.
Aman pulled her close, before giving her soft, chaste kiss on the lips - one that, even years and children and lifeâs nightmares later, made Soph feel like she was in her twenties again, falling uncontrollably with a man she knew she shouldnât. Free-fall. Even after all of this time, that kiss felt like free-fall.
âThatâs how we found each other.â
âNot everyoneâs like us.â Soph warned.
âNo.â Aman agreed. âBut sheâll do better.â
Soph sighed to herself internally as she clutched him close, wishing she could share his faith⌠But she couldnât. 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 Rajâs awkward silence.
She hadnât wanted it to be awkward, of course. But it was.
The first few hours hadnât been too bad; sheâd been focused on work, prepping for her meeting. Pixieâs future father-in-law was the Minister of Culture; sheâd 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 hadnât 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 Pakistanâs 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. Heâd approached the Pakistani government and UNESCO as one, she remembered, offering to buy the land deep to the site. This, heâd 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 theyâd 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 couldnât 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 laymanâs 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 Sophâs influence on trying to create a more balanced view had done much good. It also didnât help that Mr Ahmed didnât 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 theyâd been preparing to board, Ari had been reading a recent piece from the past twelve hours, questioning whether âMr Ahmedâ was just a non-existent crime cover-up, as part of a laundering scheme.
It was made worse by the fact that âanonymous sourcesâ 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 sheâd be able to fix all of that.
Zarina Zafar was Pakistanâs darling - and Indiaâs 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 Godâs 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 wasnât 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 Zafarsâ involvement in the project - and that was fine. But seeing as she hadnât yet had the opportunity to visit Lahore, it would probably take some bluffingâŚ
⌠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 Pixieâs sights, she wouldnât be let out of them - not to mention Sarfaraz pressuring her to babysit Raj⌠And her brother and Samara could arrive at any momentâŚ
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 Pixieâs reply, purposefully not looking in Rajâs direction. A few times, sheâd 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 Pixieâs 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.
âHey!â Ari hissed, throwing a pen - and landing it square in Rajâs temple - at her sleeping jet-mate, making him jump slightly and glare at her. âIâm on a business call, donât interrupt me.â
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.
âSo, Miss Zafar, what can I do for you? Were we not set to meet once you landed?â
âYes, sir, we were - but actually, I knew that once I landed for the wedding, I wouldnât want to leave!â Ari immediately said, with her chirpiest voice and trademark smile. She didnât see Raj glance sleepily over his shoulder at her - before smiling slightly as he fell back asleep. âAnd ultimately, weâre all in Islamabad for such a happy occasion, the less we have to discuss work the better, surely?â
âOf course.â Minister Bilal said kindly. âSo you want to discuss your fatherâs corporationâs involvement with the Fort project?â
Ari sat a little straighter in her chair.
âYes.â She said resolutely. âAs you know, my family and I are deeply interested in preserving our countryâs history and even on an international level, my mother has been recognised as a patron of the arts-â
âMiss Zafar.â Ari paused, quick to hide her confusion, as the Minister suddenly seemed⌠Awkward. âYour familyâs involvement is not at question here. The governmentâs concern is, rather, about how you may be of service.â
Ari paused.
âExcuse me, but Iâm not entirely sure I understand your meaning, MinisterâŚâ 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? âAre there any doubts in our integrity?â
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 didnât respond well to being questioned. Ever.
âYouâre a very shrewd girl, Miss Zafar - and I would expect no less, given the family you come from.â Ariâs mind began to race, because she didnât 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? Sheâd known this would come out eventually, she knew she would never be able to bury it deep enough - âBut letâs not pretend - we donât have the time amidst such a busy, happy occasion!â
Ari just about managed a polite smile.
âThe bad press is bad for the government. It makes my job more difficult, when at this current time, Iâd much rather it felt easy!â The Minister smiled. âAt first, this⌠Khalid Ahmed character was an odd quirk for privacy. But the terrible way this has been handled - which youâll improve, Iâm 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.â
⌠Iâm 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 hadnât found it too difficult to get hold of the video. She couldnât imagine it would have been difficult for the Pakistani government, either.
âYou do⌠Know the arrangement regarding Mr Ahmedâs role in the public eye, donât you, dear?â Minister Bilal asked, his eyes narrowing slightly.
âOf course.â Ari replied easily⌠Lying through her teeth. She remembered the mega-watt smile of her fatherâs lawyer, Harvey and all of the lessons heâd taught her with it. âBut weâre in the business of discretion. I donât think it my place to comment, but now that I know what it is I can to do start-â Ari said shrewdly, making Minister Bilal laugh slightly. â- helping, consider it done.â
âItâs that simple?â He laughed. Ari shrugged, trying to feign her irritation as innocence. âWell, I have no reason to doubt you. And when I see you next, no talk of business - weâll all be becoming family!â
âIf God wills.â Ari replied in Arabic, her nails digging so hard into her palms under the table now that her hand was beginning to feel numb. âIâll see you soon, Minister.â
âWould you like to talk to Pixie before you go?â
Ari fought not to roll her eyes. How transparent. As if sheâd forgotten about the wedding; about how, if she messed this up, it could also affect her cousin.
⌠Okay, maybe she hadnât 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.
âNo, thank you, Minister. It was a pleasure and weâll all see each other soon.â
Ari had already hung up before heâd finished saying his goodbye.
Ari stared at her blank phone screen for a few moments, chewing on the inside of her lip. That⌠It hadnât gone badly.
It also hadnât gone particularly well.
Sheâd had her reservations about working with Khalid Ahmed after seeing the intel, for obvious reasons - and if you didnât 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 sheâd been right in understanding Minister Bilal.
The only person Ari wanted to ask for advice was her father. But she couldnât. She had to prove she could do this, by herselfâŚ
âEverything okay?â
Ari didnât bother to hide how she rolled her eyes at Rajâs voice.
âYeah, thanks.â
âAr - ZarinaâŚâ Ari sighed and glanced over to Raj, who was now watching her carefully. âIf you need a hand-â
If she wasnât taking her fatherâs help, she sure as Hell wasnât taking her ex-loverâs.
âAccording to a financial report, two incredibly poor business decisions taken by you cost the Gemini Group almost a quarter of a billion dollars.â Ari interrupted, bored and irritated at having to say it at all. For Raj not knowing better than to keep things between them⌠Formal. Theyâd lasted this many hours, hadnât they? In a compressed metal box in the air? Didnât he know how to read a room? âI appreciate your offer of help, but I think it neednât be more conscious than me doing the opposite of what you have recently.â
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 neednât be any more familiarity than required, thank you very much.
âI was going through a tough time.â Raj told her quietly, his jaw clenched.
Knowing exactly what he meant, Ari raised an eyebrow, turning away towards the window.
âBusiness is business.â Ari told him, surprised to find that, although sheâd said it before⌠This time, she really meant it. Wasnât that something? Maybe living in London again hadnât been such a weak choice after all. âSo it sounds pretty pathetic to me.â
Contrary to her last statement, Ari was not a fan of toxic masculinity; sheâd suffered at the hands of it before, a thought that automatically made her fingers and toes curl. But she was a fan of Rajâs pride and the distance it would place between them⌠And judging by the angry stare Ari felt on her shoulder and Rajâs silence, it had worked.
Ari stared down at the brightly coloured fields below, fiddling with her fingers. Sheâd 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 couldnât be afraid forever. And anyway, who would dare mess with the peopleâs princess? A Zafar?
Theyâve 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. Samaraâs nickname on Ariâs phone, the bored-looking emoji, immediately replaced her name upon Ari pressing on it.
Samara replied almost instantly.
> Are you joking? Iâm sitting in a hospital bed.
Ari rolled her eyes.
Iâm aware. Y/N?
> Probably not, Iâm 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.
Donât 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 itâll look more suss if I ask than you in random conversation. Ari frowned. Tabina? Samaraâs cousin? You okay with that?
Knowing Samara would know better than to be offended - or had been so many times, that sheâd stopped caring, Ari replied - which oneâs Tabby? All of Samaraâs cousins, the set of sisters sheâd lived with in New York - her uncleâs 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 Samaraâs 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 didnât 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, sheâd seen him with when Sy had taken her to his apartment when sheâd landed in New York.
> Nose job, lip fillers, some other shit.
Who is her surgeon?? Ari replied frantically. I didnât 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 Samaraâs message to mask it. She didnât care if Raj saw.
No thank you. And then, after a second thought - Iâd rather stick pins in my eyes. She watched curiously as the typing icon appeared, disappeared and then reappeared. Great. Offended?
Finally, she received Samaraâs message - and couldnât 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.













