Turn Right: Chapter Twenty-Two
Rose continued to stare at her bedroom ceiling, just as she had been for the past three hours, her iPod playing quietly on Shuffle.
It was coming up to 11am in New York.
Rose knew that she should be getting dressed, or at least putting her face on – but in all honesty, she hadn’t taken her face off from yesterday. Usually, Rose was about as stringent with her face regime as Soph was in regards to fruit pebbles, but then, Rose supposed with sadness, they’d hardly been themselves lately. When was the last time Soph had even had Pinkberry? Not so long ago, she hadn’t been able to live without it.
Soph had called her today.
It hadn’t been good news.
Well, then again, Rose figured that Soph being sick through her nose didn’t have much pleasantness attached to it, but that hadn’t been the problem.
Last night, Soph had cried for the first time – and although it had initially felt like it had helped, looking back, Soph had told Rose that she was no longer so sure. Soph had told her that, waking up in the morning, it had felt fake; not the crying itself, but what it stood for. Like waking up in hospital as a kid, Soph had explained, and crying from shock, but not understanding that it was shock was just yet.
Soph had also told her about Aman Zafar.
Rose disliked his demeanour, of course, and openly said so to Soph – his self-awareness was ridiculously egotistical and Rose had learnt her lesson from Zayn. Soph had agreed; although Aman had allowed her to stay in her apartment, now under Bee and Tiff’s supervision, he wasn’t exactly a friend. Although, saying that, he had taken Soph to an amazing bakery he knew in the city, so that she didn’t – to quote him – “pass out like the zombie you’re beginning to resemble”.
As it happened, Rose had Googled the said bakery, under the pretence of gaining inspiration from their menu, when she was just stalking Aman’s moves. The bakery in question was in Yorkville and, at the hour Soph had described, would have been fairly empty, hence Aman not confining Soph, or himself, to the town car they’d driven in.
Despite a part of Rose sincerely believing in Aman’s three rules, the ones he’d disclaimed to Soph at his office which Soph had repeated to Rose with disinterest, she couldn’t help but be cynical. It escaped her logic, the thought of Aman simply allowingSoph into his apartment, especially with his newly married younger sister and husband staying there, too. Not that she was complaining; hotel bills were now one less thing for Soph to worry about in New York. That was another thing – the apartment Soph had looked up for Aman out of boredom had come through and he wanted to move immediately, already taking for granted Soph would be moving with him, just as Bee and Tiff would. But all the same, Rose couldn’t help but feel suspicious towards Aman Zafar, even if it was just residual from her encounters with Zayn.
Anyway, Soph had told Rose about her evening with Aman – the museum, the bakery, the five slices of split, different flavours of cheesecake and some talking that had gone with it – only to come to a conclusion about her feelings, something that talking to Aman had made her realize, though not voice.
It wasn’t Soph’s emotions that were the problem. It was the fact she thought she needed them.
At hearing that, the unease that had been swirling around in the pit of Rose’s stomach turned into full-fledged panic. That only meant one thing, one thing that wasn’t very good.
And as if by clockwork, Rose saw Harry peek his head around the door.
Rose smiled tiredly, tugging out her earphones and sitting up in bed.
“Come in.” She smiled, Niall trudging in after him. “Thanks for coming, I know how much you’re loving staying in your apartment. How’s Alanna, Niall?” Rose barely glanced at Harry. She hadn’t seen him since he’d left her with Eddie a few days before.
“Perfect, yeah.” Niall grinned.
“And Isolde?” Rose asked shrewdly.
Niall shook his head, still smiling.
“Same as ever.” He replied, with a small laugh. “But come on, Rose. What’s all this about?”
“Why did you call?” Harry asked quietly, opting to lean against Rose’s wall as Niall sat at the bottom of her bed. Rose knew it was a loaded question, the unspoken “me” hanging in the air awkwardly between them. Why had she called Harry? Particularly with Niall there?
Easy. Niall was a buffer.
Rose considered her next few words very carefully.
“Well, it’s about Soph.” Rose settled on saying. “As always.” She didn’t mean it in a malicious way – it was a fact that Harry and her were only really thrown together thanks to Soph.
With a strange burst of surprise, Rose realized how true that was. Apart from when the boys had gone on tour, way back when Rose had been dating Liam, the only thing keeping Harry and Rose together was their common friendship with Soph.
Rose pushed it to the back of her mind. If she kept going this way, her head was going to explode.
Rose hesitated. She hated betraying Soph’s trust, even if she wasn’t.
“Promise you won’t tell?” Rose pressed uncomfortably, fiddling with her nails.
“We won’t breathe a word to Zayn.” Niall promised. “Not even Liam and Louis, if you think it’s too private.” Harry nodded in agreement, both Rose and Harry silently understanding that Harry didn’t need to give a spoken word – Rose trusted him, at least in regards to Soph, anyway.
“Okay.” Rose took a deep breath. “I... I spoke to Soph earlier this morning, she called me.”
Immediately, the boys straightened.
“Is she alright?” Harry murmured grimly.
“How’s her health? Does she need anything, is she safe?” Niall pressed, even more of a father figure than when Rose had last seen him at the hospital.
Rose smiled at their concern for her best friend. That was pleasant.
“This may sound off topic, but I promise it’s relevant.” Rose began, tucking hair behind her hair and sighing for a moment. “Do you – okay – you... You remember how Soph ran to Zayn when Adam was in coma? That night, when it was raining?”
“Yeah, of course.” Harry frowned. “Why?”
“Well, I was stunned.” Rose told them. “Not that she was running to Zayn – if anything, honestly, I saw that way earlier than anybody else did, just because I know her well enough to know when she begins to trust someone, even if she doesn’t know it yet.” Rose thought back. “It was the fact she ran to somebody at all.” Rose stopped, allowing the boys to process this for a moment, hoping she’d understand where she was going with all of this.
“Okay.” Niall nodded. “Why? I mean, what was it, then, that surprised you?”
“The fact she ran to anyone at all.” Rose confessed. “Soph is so independent. And she’s feisty and arrogant and obnoxious in the most fabulous way and I love her for it. So even if it makes her happy, her relying on somebody is dangerous.”
“Are you getting at Zayn?” Harry questioned, furrowing his eyebrows in thought, his arms crossed over his chest. Rose tried not to focus on his T-shirt and beanie.
“Just... Bear with me, okay? I’m getting there.” Rose murmured, rubbing her eyes for a moment. “Sorry, okay. The point is, the only reason she ran to Zayn was because he saw Adam there, he helped him. And even if Soph takes ten years to admit it, I know it was partly because she felt she owed him something.”
“Hang on-” Niall began, but Rose shook her head.
“Trust me, alright? I know Soph. Even if it was subconscious, it was there.” Rose told him quietly. “And all of her insecurities came into play and then she did acknowledge her feelings for him, which I don’t doubt she had. But that’s not my point here.”
“I don’t get it, then what is?” Harry asked, not rudely.
Rose tried to think of the correct phrasing, wishing Soph were there to help her.
“Soph has this... Off switch.” Rose began slowly. “I know it sounds cliché and like something out of a TV show, but she can just... Go cold, whenever she likes. Turn off her emotions. She doesn’t like doing it and it eats her up from the inside, but she can. And looking back, she’s done it before, just not on as big of a scale as I’ve seen her do it before.”
“... Just before Adam, when she was trying to freeze Zayn out.” Harry agreed, Rose’s argument dawning on him. “Yeah, I remember, she tried to avoid everyone. It didn’t work-”
“- because I was around-” Rose agreed.
“- but it was there, I remember it, I didn’t like it.” Harry continued. “So wait, is she doing that now? Did she tell you she doesn’t want to know any of us anymore?”
The weight of Harry’s final statement hit Harry and Niall a few seconds after he’d said it, their faces changing in horror.
“No, it’s arguably worse than that.” Rose muttered, tucking her hair behind her ear. “Look, I’m Soph’s closest friend in the world, right? I am. And so, as her closest friend in the world, I get certain courtesies.” Rose swallowed loudly, as if trying to stop herself from vomiting up the words. “Before, when she switched off with Zayn, it was a survival method, not choice. He was already under her skin, it was too late for her to shut off.”
“But now?” Niall asked quietly, looking at Rose thoughtfully.
Rose mentally reprimanded herself. He already had a newborn at home, he didn’t need to help Rose babysit her own and Harry’s egos.
“She called me to warn me that she’s shutting off willingly.” Rose admitted quietly, wincing at the tense silence that followed. She felt Niall and Harry’s eyes burning into her, silently begging for her to go on, though they were unable to speak. Rose wished she had the luxury of not having to. “Now, that doesn’t apply to me, obviously – even if she shuts off, she can’t with me, things filter through, I know her too well. But...”
“But nobody else is on that side of the fence she’d building.” Niall nodded, his voice a soft murmur. “And she said that to you? That she’s shutting off?”
“And that she was giving me warning.” Rose confirmed with a nod.
“Sounds like she already has.” Harry muttered darkly.
“Oh, this is nothing.” Rose laughed mirthlessly. “I just... I just felt like I should warn you guys because-”
“Because of the oncoming shitstorm we’re about to get caught up in?” Niall offered bluntly.
Rose managed a small smile.
“That, too.” Rose told him. “But...”
“But?” Harry pushed, leaning forward.
Rose closed her eyes, condemning herself to the fieriest pits of Hell for her deception. She was talking about Soph, not in an evil way, but being so open about the baring of Soph’s soul still felt wrong.
“I think she knows Zayn is in the same city as her. And I think she knows he’s going to try and find her and probably succeed.” Rose told the boys, suddenly very interested in her duvet – but suddenly, what she had to say next needed to be said with conviction, with strong eye contact, with an undeniable truth to it. “And I think the stranger Zayn thought he saw before is going to seem like a star compared to the cold-hearted, pissed off bitch he’s going to meet when he finds her. And when it comes down to it and if it comes to taking sides, I am taking hers and anybody who even thinks of disagreeing with me, I will happily destroy.”
“Sweetheart, is that a threat or a warning?” Niall asked softly, frowning slightly at the way Rose’s voice had wobbled at the end with fury.
“It’s neither.” Rose shrugged, turning from Niall to look at where Harry was watching her, deep in thought and assessing. “It’s just fact.”
Harry and Rose stared at each for a few more moments, temporarily forgetting why.
Niall coughed awkwardly to try and bring them to attention. Thankfully, it worked.
“And Zayn going out there is going to kick all of this off?” Harry clarified. “For everyone?”
Rose thought back to how many times she and Soph had taken turns in being emotionless bitches. Rose had never been able to last as long as Soph; ultimately, Soph had more of a bitter, stubbornness in her, something dark that, when given the key, drove at one hundred miles per hour.
“If you thought you knew Soph and this was bad...” Rose shook her head and laughed, disbelieving and almost fearful, of what the situation was and what it was about to become. “You ain’t seen nothing yet, boys.”
The Non-Resident Asian Breakfast Club lay down their bags, the concierge with the nametag “Rudy” standing by the door.
Without hesitation, Aman walked over the wall-sized window, to see Manhattan in its full, daytime grey glory before him.
Soph watched on with raised eyebrows, as Tiff and Bee glanced around. Aman was going to straight to work, but he hadn’t seen the apartment physically, just had Debbie talk to the hotel and have all of the necessary arrangements made; so there he stood, in a navy suit, surveying the city with his hands on his apparently extraordinarily small waist.
“You,” Aman grinned, glancing at Soph happily over his shoulder. “Are amazing. You know that, right? You know that now I’m in love with you?”
Soph shrugged her bag onto the floor, seeing Tiff and Bee beginning to explore.
“If I’d known it was so easy to get a billionaire’s heart, I shouldn’t have married Zayn.” Soph murmured dryly, ignoring Aman’s snort as he heard. “So, you approve?”
Aman sighed happily, his silver and blue watch catching in the light. Soph tried not to vomit at it – she’d seen a younger version of it a few years back, in the Oxford Street branch of Watches of Switzerland. It was gorgeous, of course, but enough for the deposit on a small house.
“Well, I don’t see what the fuss is about.” Bee sighed dramatically, turning to the rest of them. “I mean, no offence, Soph, Rudy, but the Waldorf is a much more prestigious hotel than the Carlyle! And it’s the same distance from Wall Street in the car-”
“But this place is home.” Aman interrupted, shaking his head, returning to the view. “Seriously, Soph, thank you.”
Soph saluted lazily, trying not to laugh at Bee’s pouty expression.
“Fine, we’re staying at the Carlyle.” Bee muttered, more to herself than any of the others. “But can I ask you two a question?”
Soph and Aman turned simultaneously, glancing at one other, before turning back to Bee with a confused expression. Neither of them could think of a question that would apply to both of them.
“What’s up?” Soph asked cautiously, aware of the almost palpable tension between her and Aman as Bee hummed to herself. Of course, there had been nothing wrong with Aman buying her an assortment of cheesecake after her emotional meltdown, but all the same... How awkward was that? To tell Bee, anyway?
Bee bit her lip thoughtfully.
“Do you always dress like that?”
“Bee!” Tiff yelled, before Soph had even registered what Bee had said to garner a response. “What did we say about filters yesterday? You can’t go around asking people that!”
“I wasn’t being rude!” Bee protested, turning to Soph. “You weren’t offended, were you, Soph?”
“Um-” Soph began, but Tiff groaned, cutting her off.
“How would you feel is somebody asked you that in everyday conversation?” Tiff demanded, crossing his impressive arms over his chest. “Well?”
Soph glanced down at herself. She thought she’d done pretty well today. Jeans, a tattered London 2012 T-shirt and a pair of Converses, with her hair tied up in a ponytail the way it had always been before.
Calling Rose that morning had been a liberating experience. Not only did it take Soph’s guilt away for not wanting to feel guilty – and consequently feeling a little guilty anyway – by telling her, but also accepting the fact she didn’t need to care.
Because why should she? Zayn didn’t. If he had, Tiff and Bee wouldn’t have stuttered awkwardly at breakfast this morning, a special goodbye breakfast from the Waldorf, before showing her a newspaper letting her know that her darling husband was on his way to find her.
And dear God, did it feel empowering to admit.
“Are you going to seriously let him talk to your sister like that?” Bee demanded of Aman, placing her hands on her hips. Aman shrugged. “Hey!”
“You married him!” Aman replied defensively, leaving Bee with her mouth open. “And anyway, there’s nothing wrong with the way I dress.”
Soph raised her eyes at how Bee and Tiff stopped telepathically arguing, to shoot Aman extremely judgemental looks.
“Not unless you’re seventy and white.” Tiff told him seriously, dressed himself in jeans, a shirt and suede shoes.
“With a bad Asian haircut.” Bee added.
Soph blanched. Tough crowd.
“It’s not that bad.” Soph murmured, feeling the urge to defend Aman, just because nobody else was. “I mean, you know, he’s rich, right? Don’t rich people get away with it?”
Tiff turned to face his old friend, laughing loudly.
“Ha, you think you’re so smart, don’t you?” Tiff laughed. “You think it makes a difference if you stick up for him? You’re still next on the agenda.”
“What happened to filters?” Soph demanded, placing her hands on her hips.
“I just don’t see why we can’t make our girly thing today more... Permanent.” Bee pouted, making Soph feel slightly nauseous. “Don’t look at me like that! We’re still on for today, aren’t we?”
“Sure you won’t walk into another porno?” Tiff muttered under his breath.
“Thank you.” Soph retorted smartly. “Bee, all I was going to do is get my hair cut!”
“Yeah, we’re perfectly fine with our appearances, thank you.” Aman nodded in solidarity, Soph nodding staunchly back. “We’re not crazy like you people, who are obsessed with fashion.”
“Preach!” Soph yelled. “And anyway, nice as it would be to reinvent myself – the last time we tried that, it didn’t quite work to plan and anyway, I’m not going to pretty myself up just for Zayn.”
“But it wouldn’t be for Zayn, it would be for you.” Bee frowned. Soph opened her mouth to protest – that wasn’t going to be how Zayn and the rest of the world saw it -, but Bee shook her head. “I mean, yesterday you felt confident, right? It wasn’t because of the mask, it was because you felt good about yourself. There’s nothing wrong with that.”
Soph paused for a moment, considering this. Okay, so that was partly true; even if it was more to prove to herself she had the ability to be attractive, she’d felt good, looking the way she had. But that didn’t mean she had to do it every day.
“I’m not saying it’s about feeling good, it’s just the effort and the type of personality you have to be.” Soph shrugged. “And I’m not that personality.”
“Again, not everybody is a fashion-crazy freak like you, sis.” Aman said pointedly. “What difference does it make to you if we’re not up to your standards?”
Without blinking, Bee snapped.
“Because I have to be seen and associated with you, so I’m going to clear out your closet anyway, whether you like it or not!” Bee snapped, taking a deep breath and returning to Soph with a cool demeanour again. Honestly, it freaked Soph out more than a little that Bee could go through such mood swings. “Soph, come on! Changing your appearance doesn’t change your attitude. It just makes people look at you different before they make the judgement.”
“Which is exactly what I’m avoiding.” Soph pointed out.
“But why?” Bee groaned, tossing back her silky black hair. It was easier for her, Soph supposed. Bee was beautiful; flawless fair skin, large, doe green-brown eyes, long eyelashes and a body and eyelashes to die for. Of course it was easy for her to think all of those things. “Have people been taking you seriously with the way you’ve been so far? No. They’re going to make their judgements on you by what they read anyway, at least this way people will sit up and take notice.”
It was bothering Soph that she was even paying attention to Bee’s argument at all, especially with Tiff and Aman suddenly so quiet, but Soph pushed on – she had to. She couldn’t just dismiss her entire life’s theology in one second!
But then again, hadn’t she done that when she’d married Zayn? She hadn’t believed in Prince Charmings, or that Zayn could change – and her instinct had been right, he couldn’t. And it was all very well and good for Soph to think she was mightier than other people, more comfortable in her own skin because she could go out without a mask of make-up... But, well, hadn’t that projection failed her anyway? People saw her personality come through more, yes, but if anything, they thought she was a walkover.
Soph was reminded of what Zayn had text her, the night Alanna had been born; wear something tight and sexy ;) xx. This... This passiveness she’d been feeling, that she’d let Zayn make her feel. Maybe it was just all about appearance. Wasn’t everything with him? Even at the prospect of being a father, he’d cringed first at how that would make him seem. And he’d always loved children, that wasn’t something Soph could ignore.
“I’m not going to change myself for other people.” Soph told Bee, though sounding much less sure than she had a few moments ago. “I still have my integrity, for God’s sake.”
“Sweetie, there is a difference between not having integrity when you girl up, and having integrity, but using your feminine wiles to make people get up and notice you have integrity at all.” Bee smiled. “It’s a man’s world. They set the rules, so they don’t get to complain when we play by them.”
Soph blinked for a moment, Bee’s words having even more of an a desired effect than Soph assumed Bee could have imagined.
They set the rules, so they don’t get to complain when we play by them.
“Well, fascinating as this conversation is, I have work to get to.” Aman murmured, apparently freaked out by the silence that had overtaken the room. “Rudy, don’t let my sister anywhere near my closet and no, I’m not joking.”
“Like he’s going to stop me.” Bee muttered, rolling her eyes. “Uh, no offence.” She added quickly.
“Are you still up for talking to Debbie today?” Aman asked Soph, fishing into his pocket for his phone. Soph wondered if he could survive without it. And coming from an addict such as herself... That meant something. “You don’t have to.”
“No, it’s cool.” Soph shrugged. “I’ll be there later.”
“Cool.” Aman nodded. “Well, I better go, so have fun being attacked by my little sister.” Aman shot Bee a fake smile over Soph’s shoulder, earning him one right back. “I’ll see you guys later.”
“I’ll come with you, I think I left my phone in the car.” Soph lied, joining him as he walked towards the door. “Bee, I’ll come back up and grab my jacket and we can go, deal?”
“Just to the hairdressers?” Bee asked carefully.
On one hand, Soph found Bee annoying. On the other... Well, she really had to applaud her persistence.
“I guess it wouldn’t kill me to stop off on the way.” Soph shrugged, yelping as Bee attacked her in a large, squealing hug.
Yeah, this was pretty annoying, too.
“Okay, you can let go now.” Tiff mumbled, pulling Bee – who was clapping in delight like a toddler – off of Soph, mouthing an apology as he did. “Come on, let’s find our room.”
“And upon hearing that, it’s time for me to go.” Aman grimaced, heading out of the door – but not before motioning with a small, suspiciously sarcastic bow, for Soph to go first. “Ladies first.”
“Oh, you see, that’s funny, because I’m not a lady.” Soph replied with a smile. “You first.”
Aman shook his head, but did so anyway.
Neither of them said anything on the elevator down, Aman tapping away on his phone. It wasn’t until the doors had opened and they were stepping out into the lobby, that Aman slipped his phone back into his pocket and turned to her.
“So, you didn’t forget your cell phone.” He began conversationally.
“Between you and me, you do dress like an old white person with no taste.” Soph blurted, unable to stop herself. She turned to him quickly. “Sorry.”
“And even though I completely understand your thinking and I think it’s awesome, to the rest of the world, you look like a total snob.” Aman replied just as quickly, unfazed but the outrage on Soph’s face. “What? I thought we were being honest!”
Without stopping to even think about it, Soph whacked him on the arm. Hard.
“You punch like a hamster.” Aman snorted, rubbing his arm anyway. “Was there a reason to you walking with me, or was it just to abuse me?”
“Well, the latter is definitely more appealing right now.” Soph snapped. “I was going to ask if you think-”
“You should do this girly transformation thing?” Aman finished for her, Soph blinking at how easily he’d read her mind. Again. “Yeah, sure. I mean, it’s not like people don’t already know you’re not ugly, this is just your way of letting them know you’re not stupid enough to not know it, too.”
Once again, Soph only blinked as her initial response.
“I don’t know...” Soph began slowly. “If you just complimented me or not.”
Aman glanced up from his phone.
“Oh, I did, I just kind of insulted you at the same time.” Aman shrugged, seeing the hesitance on Soph’s face. “Look, Bee’s not that bad when it comes to this...” Aman waved his hand vaguely in the direction of a nearby potted plant. Soph felt a dull poke at her chest, like her brain was trying to remind her to be upset, as she remembered a memory from what felt like an age ago; Zayn and her, hiding behind a potted plant, discussing a honeymoon. “Girly stuff. And Hell, if you can do it, why can’t I?”
Soph snapped out of her reminiscing for a moment.
“Are you telling me you want to dress up as a girl?” Soph frowned.
“No.” Aman sighed, rolling his eyes. “Look, the way I see it, Bee isn’t going to let go of this makeover thing so long as we’re at the Carlyle. And if we both do it at the same time...”
“She’ll be too stretched to be too thorough with either one of us.” Soph murmured, seeing his logic. Blanching in surprise, Soph turned to face the man in front of her – she couldn’t call him a boy, she supposed – shaking her head in disbelief. “What do you know? Oxford does teach you something. You’re not as stupid as you look.”
“Ha ha.” Aman laughed without mirth. “You’re so funny. Well, at least I’m not a stalker.”
Simply because there was no comeback to that, Soph scowled.
“Well, whatever, douchebag, I have to-”
“Okay, please, please, please do me a huge favour and just turn around and walk back to the elevator with me like nothing is wrong.” Aman suddenly said, his face burning with something Soph couldn’t quite decipher as he trained his eyes to the floor.
“I think I just got whiplash from the change in topic.” Soph muttered, glancing around the lobby. There didn’t seem to be any gangsters waiting to shoot Aman’s brains out, except – for lack of a better phrase – a snobby bitch who was looking at Soph like she wanted her dead. “Who are we avoiding?”
“I hate you so, so much.” Aman groaned under his breath, as a tall, broad shouldered man – flanked by the snobby bitch giving Soph daggers – walked over.
“When he’s saying Manny, does he mean you?” Soph questioned, turning to look at the fleeting expression of pure pain on Aman’s face.
“What, you think Tiff was the first one Bee made assimilate?” Aman muttered, apparently recomposing himself. Soph stared on in utter shock. She’d never seen Aman this flustered before. Then again, she supposed, she hadn’t seen very much of him. But all the same. His demeanour didn’t give off the impression that he was one to scare easily. “God.” Aman muttered and Soph felt her chest twist in confusion at the evident pain in that one word.
“Who are they?” Soph murmured as the couple got closer, the other girl’s eyes raking over her body blatantly. Tall, chiselled features, dressed expensively. Soph felt disgust, respect and awareness of Bee’s previous comments all at once.
“The guy I used to say was my brother and my ex-fiance.” Aman replied grimly.
Soph had just turned to gape at Aman in shock – ex-fiance, wow, that was a way to just drop something in a conversation – when the couple reached them.
“It is you!” The tall guy yelled, grabbing Aman in a huge bear hug. Soph could only watch, stunned, as Aman forced a smile and patted his back. “Yaar! Where’ve you been? It’s been too long!”
“Hi Aman.” The girl smiled tightly, stepping forward and kissing him delicately on the cheek. Unless Aman was secretly gay – which Soph somehow doubted -, this was the ex-fiance. Unless she’d misheard Aman, but unless he’d called her a fence, she wasn’t sure how.
Automatically, Soph’s eyes narrowed as Snobby Bitch’s lips lingered on Aman’s cheek a second later than Soph took to be normal. As if she was still residually high from the day before, Soph’s mind reeled – what had Aman said? His three rules? I don’t date, I don’t get involved in married women and anyway, I don’t believe in love.
“Hi Zara.” Aman replied quietly, before coughing – and just like that, Aman’s discomfort was gone, as he pushed the other guy away. “Jai, get off of me, you sentimental idiot!”
Soph’s eyes physically twitched. Zara? Aman’s ex-fiance’s name was Zara?
As in, name-of-the-dead-baby-who-she-recently-bled-out-as-a-foetus-Zara?
“And who’s this, huh?” Jai grinned, wiggling his eyebrows at Soph. Jai slung an arm around Aman’s shoulders and winked. “Now who’s getting sentimental?” Offering Soph his hand, Jai took it upon himself to introduce himself. “I’m Jai. Jai Kapoor. This rascal’sbest friend since before college!”
Soph felt extremely uncomfortable.
“Oh, Jai, this is the girl we saw in the magazine this morning.” Zara said coolly, capturing Soph’s attention. Without hesitation, Soph’s mind instantly categorized Zara in the same category as Dianna; bitchy, sleazy and in need of a good slap. “You and your husband just lost your baby, right? How do you know Aman?”
Oh, wow, bitch, because those two things are really so connected.
And in that moment, Soph didn’t think.
“That’s me, yeah.” Soph nodded, smiling brilliantly – and nudging Aman. “Aman’s my best friend.”
“Oh, really?” Jai asked, his brown eyes sparkling with amusement.
“Really?” Aman muttered under his breath, shooting Soph a sideways glance of incredulity.
“Mhmm.” Soph smiled, mentally telling herself that if Aman was so stupid to not play along, she may as well leave for London that instant. “I’ve heard a lot about you both.” Saying this – and despite it being a blatant lie – Soph allowed her eyes to fall coolly over Zara, her expression instantly hardening.
“Well, it’s all good I-” Jai began, but Soph never quite got to hear how he was going to end what was presumably a terrible sentence, because Jai suddenly let out an inhuman roar of rage. “Zara! I thought you said he was being looked after?!”
Automatically, Soph and Aman glanced at each other, before following Jai’s line of sight.
Well, he was a toddler. Younger, maybe. Nevertheless, a small person had just run across the sliding marble floor of the Carlyle in a T-shirt and a nappy, squealing in delight, as a small army of people chased him; before unceremoniously tripping and falling head-first into the marble.
Whereupon he giggled and began to crawl surprisingly fast, away from his assumed captors.
“You!” Zara snapped, moving her arm so suddenly, she almost took out Soph’s eye. Soph looked at Aman, hoping to catch a moment of eye contact before Zara turned to scrutinize them; but Aman was looking at the little boy with a strange expression on his face, a mixture of confusion and disbelief. “Didn’t I tell you to not let him out? Or do you not listen? Are you that incapable-” Zara stormed off to shout at the young man in glasses who had been ahead of the team of chasers, as Jai scooped up the small boy in his arms.
“Aman,” Jai grinned proudly, the little boy gurgling loudly and wriggling to set himself free. “Meet Raj Kapoor.”
“You have a son?” Aman managed to mumble, staring at the little boy in front of him.
“You’ve missed too much!” Jai laughed, offering Aman the little boy – sorry, Raj – with utter trust. “He’s a little troublemaker already, isn’t he? Not even eight months and already running around!”
“A little heartbreaker, more like.” Soph murmured, as Raj gave her a toothless grin that made even her freshly frozen heart melt slightly. Soph gently poked him, out of curiosity. Raj Kapoor let out a shrill giggle. “He’s lovely.” Soph told Jai sincerely, smiling slightly.
Showing a surprising amount of tenderness, Jai placed a hand on Soph’s shoulder.
“Thank you.” He told her sincerely, making Soph’s mind jump back to what Zara had said before – the girl we saw in the magazine this morning.
“And it’s just him?” Aman managed to strangle out, the little boy’s nose pressed against his.
“Do we need any more?” Jai snorted. “You know how Zara is, man.”
The awkwardness was so palpable in that one moment, that Soph almost gagged.
“Well, I better get going.” Aman coughed, smiling down at the little boy. “Bye, Raj.”
Raj hummed happily at Aman in response.
“We should meet. Catch up.” Jai said seriously, an earnestness in his expression that made Soph wonder how the Hell they’d gone from being obviously so close, to Aman begging for Soph to give him cover. “We’re staying here, where are-”
“I just moved into the penthouse.” Aman interrupted quietly, looking slightly sterner though, even Soph thought he still looked like he was going to hurl. “It’s been long enough, Jai, we can give catching up a try.”
Soph knew her presence had been forgotten, but all the same, felt like an intruder, seeing the hurt, guilty expression that flit across Jai’s face; and the angry, hidden heartbroken expression on Aman’s.
“Dinner, tonight?” Jai offered, his happy smile returning. “Just you and me? For old time’s sake?”
Soph couldn’t help but feel proud, from one person screwed over by love and other ridiculous feelings to another, as Aman nodded coolly.
“Leave your details at the desk, they’ll forward them to me.” Aman instructed dismissively. He turned to Soph, who instantly brightened up her thoughtful expression. She was still reeling. The way Zara had jumped to mention how Soph was married, the fact he was talking to his ex-fiance and ex-best friend for the first time – presumably – since Aman had been screwed over to see them with their first child, the clear guilt of Jai... Suddenly, some of the things Aman had been saying the past few days made a little more sense than she would have originally given them credit for. “Soph, are you still running by the office later?”
Soph knew it was just something to say, but she couldn’t help herself.
“Oh.” Soph shook her head. “I wouldn’t miss it.”
“How did everything go with Rose?” Isolde asked, upon seeing Niall walk into his – their– apartment. “Is Soph alright?”
Niall turned, his mouth open and ready to speak, only to find no words.
Because Isolde had just stepped out of the shower and was wrapped in a towel.
“You’re – I – um-” Niall stuttered, feeling his chest swell and his chinos tighten at the soft glow of Isolde’s skin, water trickling down from the nape of her neck, before running towards the hem of the towel. “You’re naked, I-”
As if suddenly realizing the position she had found herself in, Isolde gasped and quickly turned away.
“Yeah.” Niall managed to squeak.
“I-, I’m sorry, I for-” Isolde stopped, cursing herself as she realized what she’d been about to say. She’d forgotten what, exactly? That her and Niall weren’t a couple anymore? “I’m sorry.” Isolde finally said, scuttling off into the other room before anything else could be said.
Niall stood there for a few moments, the wind knocked out of him. His mind was playing the same thing over and over in his head; she feels it too. She feels it too. She feels it too.
Because for about five whole seconds back there, they had been a couple. The same Niall and Izzy from Ireland. She’d come out of the shower and seen him and immediately asked him about his day, without question. And, as he usually would, he’d gone to reply – but, instead of doing what he’d usually do if caught so off-guard at how attractive she looked semi-naked and wet (pun intended), which would be to stalk over to her and kiss her until she giggled into his mouth to stop, he’d choked on air and almost passed out.
“Is Alanna asleep?” Niall called out awkwardly, desperate for something to say.
“She’s in the bedroom!” Isolde replied from the other room, her voice slightly muffled. Niall nodded to himself. He’d insisted upon Isolde and Alanna taking his bedroom, while he slept on the floor. Initially, Niall was sure Isolde had thought he was going to sleep on the sofa – but there was no way he was going to be that far from Alanna, and he was sure Isolde simply hadn’t had the energy to argue.
Or maybe... Maybe it was something else.
No. Niall daren’t think it.
Niall stepped into the room, seeing Alanna in the middle of small fort of pillows, sprawled head-first onto the bed. Going to lie beside her for a little while, Niall stopped at seeing something by the dresser.
A bracelet, set down beside the jewellery Niall knew Isolde wore every day.
A bracelet Niall had gotten her, just before he’d left Ireland.
“Actually, wait, don’t-” Isolde stopped, her breath in her throat, as Niall rose from the bed, her bracelet in her hand. What was wrong with her today?! Niall wasn’t meant to see that. He’d know it had – significance – she was so stupid!
This was why she hadn’t wanted to come to London. She was already relaxing.
“Izzy...” Niall began, his head down.
Panic began to rise in Isolde’s chest. No. She wasn’t doing this. She’d promised herself this wasn’t what was going to happen, this was exactly what wasn’t meant to happen.
“Don’t come any closer.” The resolve that had been in Isolde’s mind didn’t quite make it to throat, her voice cracking slightly. “And I told you not to call me that.”
Niall ignored her, moving closer. She’d pulled the towel from her hair out, so blonde strands were stuck to her damp shoulders.
Isolde’s breathing hitched as her back fell against the wall and Niall’s hand fell to her wrist.
Wordlessly, Niall fixed the bracelet on her wrist, his eyes catching hers as he glanced up.
Isolde’s chest moved silently between them, her heart beating erratically. She knew that look. She knew every look Niall gave her, which is why being around him had been so painful, but this, this –
Alanna let out a small gurgle and instinctively, Isolde and Niall glanced over Niall’s shoulder.
And just like that, the moment was gone.
“I should get changed, she’ll want feeding soon.” Isolde coughed, pushing herself away from Niall without hesitation, her wrist burning where Niall’s fingers had been.
“You thought outside of the box when I couldn’t.” Debbie told Soph seriously. “I respect that in a person.”
“Didn’t I just think inside of the box when you were smart enough to think outside of it?” Soph offered, confused.
Debbie regarded Soph for a moment.
“You appreciate how fabulous I am, I like that about you.” Debbie told her seriously. “Go ahead, he should be done now.”
Soph nodded, walking into Aman’s office without a second thought.
It had been a fairly alright day with Bee. Soph had decided to trust her – and the rest of the NRABC’s – judgement and allowed Bee to have her way with her.
They’d spoken about silly things – about Tiff and Bee’s banter, about clothes, about things they didn’t like (Bee: men who farted or burped in front of her. Soph: men in general). It had crossed Soph’s mind to ask Bee about Zara and Aman’s history – despite their facade, Soph knew how close Bee and Aman truly were -, but ultimately had decided against it. It wasn’t Bee’s story to tell and anyway, Aman would tell her if he wanted to.
No, scratch that, she’d find out when she spoke to him, anyway.
“Holy sh-” Aman began, seeing Soph standing in the doorway. “Wow.”
Soph spun in a circle, her dress rippling around her.
“Not too much?” She questioned.
“No, not at all.” Aman replied honestly, standing and slipping on his jacket, though his eyes not leaving Soph’s frame. “You look nice.” Seeing Soph’s frown, Aman quickly corrected himself. “Pretty. Not that you weren’t pretty before, obviously, just feminine – I mean, that’s not to say you were masculine before, I just-”
Soph raised her eyebrows playfully.
“I think I get it.” Soph nodded. “You wouldn’t believe what happened to me today. When Bee and I went for lunch, some guy asked me for my number?”
Having quickly regrouping his thoughts, Aman buttoned his blazer.
“What, that’s never happened to you before?” He asked coolly, beginning to pack up his laptop. “Did you keep it?”
“Not like that, like something out of a movie.” Soph pulled a piece of paper out of nowhere. “And Bee said I should. Something about a commemoration.”
Soph felt slightly perturbed. She’d been expecting a better reaction than half-assed compliments and grunts.
“We better go.” Aman coughed, zipping up his laptop bag, feeling Soph’s disdainful eyes on him. “I’m meeting Jai and Bee wants to transform me before then. Apparently you’re both going out with Tiff tonight?”
“Yep.” Soph nodded. “To celebrate my newfound girliness, Bee’s introducing me to a crowd of her people.” There was an awkward silence as Aman simply nodded. “So, are you going to tell me what the Hell happened between you, Jai and Zara?”
“Nope.” Aman replied calmly, slinging his laptop bag strap over his neck, the bulk resting on his hip. “Ready to go?”
Zayn played dully with his beer bottle, the happy, bar sounds around him depressing him even further.
He’d spent the whole day in New York, looking for Soph... And he’d come up with nothing. Her phone was switched off, anything he’d heard or any ideas about where she may be had come up blank. No amount of smiling charmingly had gotten any of the local hospitals to talk, even the private ones, though Zayn doubted Soph could afford it without using his bank account.
Zayn took another drag from his bottle, before taking a puff of his cigarette. He’d thought about quitting after the miscarriage but honestly, he was stressed and had easily given in to the urge.
Zayn heard the tinkle of the door open, a group of people laughing and joking together as they entered. Good for them, Zayn thought bitterly. They didn’t have a runaway wife who was out to humiliate and destroy them, of course they should have fun.
Not for the first time that day, Zayn’s mind drifted to the air hostess he’d met. She’d slipped him her number when they’d landed. What was holding Zayn back? After all, as far as Soph was concerned, Zayn had cheated with Dianna anyway. What difference would another time make?
Bearing this in mind, Zayn scoured the crowd with fresh eyes, his gaze immediately fixing on a target. Yes, she seemed good enough; she was a little way away, with her back to him, but he could see her body close enough. He didn’t even need to check her face. He’d probably be so drunk and pissed off by the end of the evening, he wouldn’t be able to see straight anyway.
She was wearing a one-shouldered red dress that came just above her knees, the dress sleeveless and the fabric swinging around her legs with every tiny movement. Her legs were long and tanned and her hair was dark and wavy, in that I-tried-but-I’m-pretending-I-didn’t way.
As she moved, her hair covering her face but giving Zayn a side profile, Zayn wished more than anything that it were acceptable behaviour to walk up behind her and shove his hand down her bra, from where she wore no sleeves.
Then again, he was Zayn Malik. It was possible.
Seeing her turn his way, Zayn quickly faced the bar, a plan forming in his mind as the sound of laughter got louder, as did the sound of heels on the bar floor.
Zayn felt that feeling of accomplishment he always felt when he felt a woman’s eyes on him. He could feel it; her eyes practically devouring him, imagining the things he could guarantee they’d be doing later. He heard another cheer and glanced towards the door – a young man had just walked in, older than him, and was walking towards the group the woman had been with before.
“And whatever he’s having is on me.”
Zayn felt a cocky smile tug at the corner of his lips. And he hadn’t had to so much as lift a finger.
The back of his mind grunting as he wished Soph could see him now, Zayn turned to face her and get his charm on.
But Zayn’s smile fell away.
Because there, now with her back pressed against the bar and one arm leaning on top of it, glancing at Zayn with cool disinterest, was his wife.
The woman he’d considered – because of course, that was all it had been, a consideration, he wouldn’t have gone through with it – cheating on his wife with, was his wife.
“Tiff, come and help me carry these drinks!” Soph shouted across to the bar, to one of the boys in the corner, a pretty woman draped across his chest.
Zayn felt his words dry on his tongue as Soph coolly surveyed him.
“S-Soph.” Zayn managed to choke. He wanted to say so much. He’d been looking for her. He’d come to find her, he’d –
“Oh, Zayn.” Soph sighed, shaking her head at him pitifully. The boy Soph had called – Tiff – appeared, his eyes widening at Zayn’s presence... And the way Soph was leaning in close to him, towering above him in her black heels. “You didn’t think I’d miss you, did you?”
And with that parting sentiment, Soph walked away, her hips taunting Zayn as they sashayed away from him; her friend Tiff following her, trays of glasses of Coke in hand.
