𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐏𝐓𝐄𝐑 𝟒𝟔

FAIZAN

“I have a lead on who was behind that article incident.” Ryan says as soon as I answer his call.

I’m sitting in my home office, my laptop open in front of me showing the documentation I have to review.

Arzo is in the other room, in her art studio, painting for her portrait exam.

Yes, she finally got the perfect inspiration and knows what to paint.

However, I am forbidden to enter the art studio till the painting is done so I’m impatiently waiting for her to take a break so we can spend time together.

I lean back in my chair and speak, “which is?”

“The journalist said that whoever hired him, he didn’t meet them in person. As for the name they gave, that was… Shoaib Sadiq.”

“What?”

“I’m not repeating myself, Malik.”

“How is that just a lead?” I ask.

“I see that marriage has messed with your brain,” I roll my eyes at his statement. This man is allergic to marriage. The world will end the day he decides to commit to someone.

Sure, there is someone who gets his attention but he denies it.

“Either tell me what I need to know or I’m hanging up.” I say.

He sighs, “somethings never change.” He mutters, “anyways, let me tell you something, if someone is paying someone to write an article based on a rumor- or to start a rumor- they usually don’t give their own name.”

“Who would use Shoaib’s name?”

“Not sure. I asked my source to get the number through which whoever the person contacted the journalist then I will ask Finn to track down that number.”

“Okay, send me that number as well.”

“Okay.” a pause, “so, by the way, I read the news.”

“Okay.”

“Are you going to visit him?”

Ryan, Finn and Jack aren’t aware of the description of my childhood. All they know is that my biological parents were horrible. The only reason they found out Kamran Saidi was my father is because Farhan accidentally mentioned it while they were reading an article about him.

We don’t usually discuss our past with each other. We all are aware of how each of our past ended, maybe not the description but enough to know the other person.

“No.” I say.

“Okay. Good.” he says, “I’ll tell you when I find something else.”

“Okay, thanks.”

“No problem.”

We say our goodbye and I end the call. Taking a deep breath, I’m about to go back to doing my work when the doorbell rings.

I get up from my chair and exit my home office, taking the stairs down to answer the door.

As soon as I open the door, my body freezes.

A woman dressed in a beige abaya and hijab stands in the frame. Her eyes, the same color as mine. Tiredness painted over her face, showing how much unwanted attention they’ve been getting.

The woman standing outside is my biological mother.

“Assalamu Alaikum, Faizan.” she finally speaks, her voice low.

“Wale Kum Assalam..” I greet back, “what are you doing here?” I don’t ask her how she got my address, considering mama still loves her younger sister, she may have given it to her.

“I… Can I talk to you?” she asks, fidgeting with her fingers.

“Sure. Come in.” I open the door wider for her to walk in.

Closing the door behind her, I lead her to the living room. I ask if she wants something to drink, she refuses and takes her seat on the couch, I sit across from her.

“You have a beautiful home,” she says after a moment of silence.

“Thank you,”

“Um, I heard you got married,” she says, a small smile taking over her lips, “she’s beautiful.”

“I know.”

“So-”

“Why are you here?” this game could stretch for hours.

She sighs, “Kamran is.. Sick and… the business isn’t doing so well.”

“I heard,”

“The media won’t stop bugging us. We had to move out of our house because someone leaked our address and journalists showed up at our house.” she places a shaky hand on her forehead, “it’s not going well.”

“What do you want?” I ask, the question bringing a bitter taste to my tongue.

Her face forms guilt as she speaks, “I know I have no right to ask you for anything. I couldn’t help you when you needed it. When you asked for it.” The memory brings a shudder through my body but I mask it, “I’m so sorry… we were horrible parents. We didn’t deserve a child like you. We’re so sorry.” Her voice cracks on the last sentence, her eyes shining with unshed tears, “I’m just thankful to Allah that Soniya took you when she did. You deserved a mother like her. A family like hers.”

“Is this your way of telling me you never wanted a child?” The question leaves me before I could think it through.

“I never thought it would end like this. I really thought that he-”

“Stop.” I cut her off, “just.. Stop. I’ve heard enough.”

I drag a frustrated hand through my hair, my chest tightening.

“How bad is it?” I ask, my eyes to the floor. My hands grabbing the back of my hair.

“The doctors said he may only have a month without any treatment,” she chokes on her words, “with the treatment… maybe a few more months.”

My grip tightens on my hair as I grit out, “I hate him.”

“I know…”

“He tortured me.”

“I’m sorry…”

“You never stopped him.”

“I wish I had…”

I take a shaky breath, forcing myself to calm down. I remove my hands from my hair and look at her, “give me your current number, I’ll contact you in a few days.”

“Really?- Oh my God, thank you so much.” She quickly pulls out a card from her purse and places it on the table, “here,”

“Okay, thanks.”

She gives me a small smile, her eyes filled with tears, “thank you so much. And I’m so sorry. If in the future you need help… I’ll do anything.”

“I’ll be fine.”

She nods.

I lead her to the door after a moment. We both bid farewell to each other and I watch as her car leaves.

I shut the door and return to the couch, dropping on it with a sigh. I rest my elbows on my knees, dropping my head between my shoulders as I try to take steady breaths.

The sound of soft footsteps reaches my ears before I feel her comforting presence in front of me.

Placing a hand on my shoulder, she gently pushes me so I sit up and she straddles my lap. I quickly wrap my arms around her waist and bury my face in the crook of her, needing to touch her.

Her arms wrap around my neck, her fingers threading my hair. Her sweet scent and soft touch being my cure to the chaos in my head.

After a while, she pulls away, placing a kiss on my cheeks.

“You okay?” she signs.

“Yes.”

“You’re not lying to me, are you?”

“I would never lie to you, amar.” I say, my thumb tracing on her back.

“I heard…” she signs, hesitantly.

“Eavesdropping?”

“Not exactly. I came to greet whoever came and heard..”

A small smile takes over my lips at the way she innocently signs.

“Do you think this was it?” she signs, “the interaction you needed to bury what happened?”

I hum, “I think so. I realized that some part of me was always worried about them. Maybe not him, but her. It hurt to read the news of how they were being ambushed by journalists. I don’t remember what kind of a husband he was but I know she loved him. That his fault looked right to her. I don’t hate her. And.. as bad as I might sound, I agreed to help her only for her. I don’t ever want to see him.”

“Does it feel right? Are you okay with it?”

“Yes.”

She smiles, “that’s good. That’s all that matters.”

I smile, pulling her closer and place a soft kiss on her lips. She places her hand on my face, caressing my stubble as she gives me a soft kiss in return.

“Am I allowed in your studio again?” I ask as she pulls away, “it’s not fun being without my wife for hours.”

She chuckles, “you can. I actually want to show you the painting but it’s not done yet.”

“I would be honored to see your masterpiece.”

She smiles and gets up. She holds my hand and leads me upstairs to her studio.

She leads me to the easel standing by the window, holding the painting.

In the darkness of the portrait, a beautiful moon is drawn in the middle with dark clouds surrounding it as its shadow, making the moon look more beautiful than it is alone. The dark background holds small details showing the light of the moon.

My eyes catch the quote on the bottom written in Arzo’s cursive writing and golden-yellow paint.

My lips part as I read the quote.

Even the darkest cloud can be the reason for someone’s comfort.

My eyes move to Arzo who is nervously fidgeting with her fingers, biting her bottom lips.

“Amar, this is beautiful.”

“Promise?”

I chuckle, “Promise.”

“It’s still not done yet. I need to put some more details.” she signs.

“Well, I’m sure the final piece will be more beautiful.”

I pull her towards me by her waist and capture her lips in a soft kiss.

“Ask me why I drew this.” she signs after we pull away.

“Why did you draw this?”

“Because it reminds of you.”

“What?”

She smiles, “you’re the cloud around the moon. Making sure it looks beautiful, that it's safe and never alone. You also never leave me no matter in which phase I am. Like the cloud. Even when the moon isn’t there, clouds never leave the sky, waiting for it to return. And the sky best looks beautiful when the moon and the clouds are together. Like in the painting.”

I stare at her for a moment before I say, “that’s… beautiful. You’re perfect, amar.”

She grins, “you’re not going to copyright me, are you? I took your line.”

“Hm, I may not have to if I get my payment.”

“Okay, how much?”

I chuckle, “not money, amar.”

She makes an “oh” face then signs, “okay, I accept.”

I smile and capture her lips in a long passionate kiss as she wraps her arms around my neck, returning the gesture.

Breaking the kiss, I pick her up and carry her to our bedroom as she lets out a giggle making me smile.

Dropping her on the bed, I hover over her and place a soft kiss on her lips as I whisper, “Laqad waqa'tu fī ḥubb 'ajmal rūḥ”

I have fallen in love with the most beautiful soul.