#henbee

[bookwyrm07]

@jamieism I got both! I love them❤️❤️😍 it's put up on the wall over my book shelf, well out of reach of tiny children.

[modosphere]

About A Girl: Chapter Three

Kaiser Medical Clinic Manhattan, New York

She was awake when he left.

Mara knew she would have woken up beforehand; she knew what she was like on anaesthetic. After Danyal had all but dragged her to the hospital, she’d been diagnosed with a hernia caused by not looking after herself properly after the transplant surgery - and within a few hours, she’d been in theatre. Mara wasn’t even sure what time of the day it was. But she was properly awake now and, hearing a small sigh from the corner beside her before the door closing quietly shut, her eyes flew open and she grimaced slightly as she sat up a little in her bed.

Dany had stayed with her. The whole time. He’d even stayed during her stomach being examined by the doctor - a Doctor Kaiser who, Mara was sure, was exactly the clinic’s namesake - when she’d told him not to, which had led to her clutching onto his hand as she tried not to cry out in pain. Even when she’d first been wheeled out of surgery, she knew he’d been there; she couldn’t remember much, just his voice… And a hand on her forehead.

You know. The exact kind of thing she didn’t want to remember.

Grimacing slightly and placing a hand over where she could only feel a dull ache, Mara leant over to the small table and picked up her phone, collapsing against the pillows as it rang. She purposefully ignored the arm chair beside it, a messy hospital blanket splayed across the seat.

“The fact you’re calling me means you’re not on a flight, which means you’re not coming, which means your drama with my idiot cousin means you’re not attending my wedding-”

“Pixie, please.” Mara groaned, her limbs still feeling heavy. She tapped the loudspeaker and prayed Danyal wouldn’t be back anytime soon. She didn’t think he’d left the hospital - not for a second - but that confidence was confusing, and her brain felt foggy enough already from the anaesthetic. “Have you spoken to Zarina yet? Danyal said he’d call her.”

“Some shitty excuse about you being hospitalised?” Pixie asked haughtily - but Mara smiled slightly, at the tiny glimpse of concern she’d heard. “Yes. You’re an idiot.” There was a small pause. “Are you okay?”

“I’m fine, I just can’t do much for a few weeks. But I promised I’d show off my badass dancing skills for the wedding and I promise you, it’ll happen. It just means I need to take it easy here first. I’ll still help from here however I can.”

“You’re still coming?” Mara mumbled in agreement, still smiling as she heard the hope in Pixie’s voice. “Well… Then of course you should look after yourself. Be careful.” Mara shook her head slightly, as she practically heard Pixie throw her hair over her shoulder. “Obviously you can’t be ill and like, embarrass me or whatever. What’s even wrong with you?”

“I had a hernia repair.”

“A hernia? Don’t old men get that? Why do you have one?”

“I’m extraordinarily special and I decided I needed to steal some of the limelight away from your Bridezilla routine.” Mara teased, shifting slightly to be more comfortable. Her throat was a little dry and her head was still not great, but she’d be fine. In fact, she didn’t feel any pain at all. “Actually… Pix, do you have a few seconds? To talk?”

On the other side of the phone, sitting in traffic in Pakistan, Pixie hesitated as she looked up at the gigantic Centurion Mall - two towering blocks of every shopaholic’s dream - fast approaching.

“Of course.” Pixie lied, twirling her finger in the rear-view mirror, motioning for the chauffeur to turn around. Pixie guiltily ignored his look of long-suffering. They’d been stuck in traffic heading towards the Centurion for the past forty-five minutes. It didn’t matter. Mara only ever called when something was wrong - and seeing as she was calling from a hospital bed, Pixie was placing bets that there was more going on than usual. “How can I help?”

This time, it was Mara who hesitated.

She’d lost a lot of friends, in becoming Mrs Danyal Zafar. To all of the friends she’d grown up with or made in New York, before meeting Dany… She’d changed. Mara had been bitter about it at first, angry even - and maybe a part of her still was, at the unfairness of it all - but… She understood now why they’d thought that. She and Danyal, for lack of a better term, had been building their brand. Everyone was supposed to fall for it. If they’d done a good enough job to fool the Zafars, even now, was she surprised that her friends had, too?

Not to say it wasn’t… Shitty. She hadn’t noticed the distance so much when she and Danyal had still been playing their stupid, stupid game, but… Once she’d left, after the wedding, the absence had become… Obvious.

It had been a lonely few years.

It was why she hated being back in New York; hated actually seeing Raj and Pixie, rather than just texting them, even bickering with Ari again. It was so easy to fall into the old routine, but it was just a constant reminder of everything she’d faked and lost to get it - when even that wasn’t as simple as it should have been.

She didn’t have anyone to talk to about any of this. There was TJ, sure, but… After everything that had gone down with Divvy since the wedding, Mara felt like it was almost cruel to keep bringing it up. Not to mention there were some things he just… Couldn’t understand. No therapist would be paid enough, or have the patience, to follow the complications of Mara’s history, let alone understand it. Her family were more in the dark than the majority of the Zafars were. There was nobody to talk to, nobody to ask for guidance, to ask if she’d grown - except the people in it, the people Mara resented for being a part of something that trapped her.

At least, that’s how you felt before, Mara reminded herself. You’ve changed. You’ve grown. You spoke to Danyal.

Mara immediately frowned at herself. Spoke was a push at best.

As much as Mara wanted to be fiercely independent, to not need to talk to anyone… She’d spent the last few years doing that. And it had been fun! It had. It had been good for her and forced her to see things and understand things she hadn’t wanted to, things she would have always found excuses to avoid.

The problem with that was that now she was running out of things to keep her busy. Some things just needed confronting.

And Pixie was as close as she had to a friend.

“Do you remember when you asked me the real reason why I left Danyal when I did? After the wedding?”

“And you fed me some bullshit excuse about a moment of clarity between throwing up vodka shots?” Pixie snorted - before pausing and settling comfortably into her seat as her chauffeur headed for the motorway. “…Yes. I take it I’m about to hear the real story? This is exciting…”

Mara frowned, glancing at the closed door of her room again.

“Maybe a bit too much, Pix.”

*

Red Light District SoHo, London Three Years Ago

“I cannot believe you just did that.”

“Oh, relax.” Samara giggled, stumbling slightly on her studded red Valentino’s. Immediately, Danyal’s arms went out to steady her - but she avoided them, just about regaining her balance, before standing in the middle of the street and continuing to laugh at herself some more. With a frustrated clench of his jaw, Dany kept walking. “Oh, what is your problem? We were having fun-”

“Fun?” Danyal repeated, whirling around to face her. “You, alongside with everyone else’s significant other, got onto the stage and started dancing with the-”

“With the pole dancers? Strippers? Or are you going to be diplomatic and call them exotic?” Mara snorted, using air quotes above her - before giggling to herself some more. “Get over yourselves! All of you! What, you drag us all to a strip club for drinks-”

“I didn’t know we were going-”

“And all of the significant others, girls and boys alike, are meant to sit there meekly and not have our own fun?” Mara snorted. “I saved the night! You saw how much fun we had up there on stage, everyone loved us-”

Dany clenched his fists and kept walking, trying his best to drown her out.

“Oh, oh, what’re you going to say now, hmm?” Mara called after him. Reluctantly, he pulled to a stop - she was getting louder and with the silence around them, it only seemed worse. “That I embarrassed you? Is that it?”

“I never said that.” Danyal muttered, more to himself than Mara. Unluckily for him, she happened to hear.

“Is that why we had to run out and leave so early? Why you needed me to make excuses for you?” Mara pouted, stopping in the middle of the road again. Thankfully, it was mainly deserted - it was almost 3am and although the rest of SoHo was still buzzing, where they’d parked was a small ocean of silence. Just a few steps in front of them, the car - a deep red Corvette, parked by some greenery - waited and Danyal could have jumped for relief upon seeing it. “Because your ego got bruised that, seeing as we’re not at the turn of the century, you and your Neanderthals couldn’t just ogle at those dancers in peace? At least we all gave you a show, it’s not my fault you’ve got the goods and are now too afraid to touch them - well, me, I mean, obviously -”

“Get in the car.” He muttered, unlocking it as they approached. Not bothering to check on her behind him, he opened the passenger door - but instead, Mara stayed where she stood a few feet away, swaying slightly in her shoes. Dany sighed. “Samara, please, can you just get into the car? Please?”

And then, much to his relief, she slowly began to walk towards him…

… Before slamming the door he’d been holding open shut and snatching the keys from his fingers, twirling them on her own.

“You’re absolutely ridiculous if you think you’re driving in this state.” Danyal told her coolly, trying his very best to not be antagonised. Once he showed he was… It was game over. He knew her when she was like this; she was mischievous and if he didn’t play his cards right, they’d be out here all night, bickering like schoolchildren because Drunk Samara found it funny.

“Is that the real reason?” Samara asked, her eyes glinting in the light. Dany stared down at her impatiently as she stepped closer. “It is, isn’t it? I was right when I gave that crappy excuse when I saw you were on the verge of a tantrum. That’s why you’re pissed.” Mara laughed as Dany’s jaw clenched. He was so easy to irritate. She stepped closer again, closing the distance between them and draping an arm over his shoulder. Dany sighed and stared off at something in the distance - but no, no, that was no fun! Placing her fingers on his cheek, she forced him to face her. “You saw us all goofing around on that stage, saw everyone watching, and you hated it.” She moved closer still, her voice dropping slightly. Underneath her arm, she felt Dany’s shoulders tense. “Because in that moment, all you wanted… Was for me to be doing that with just you watching, in our bedroom.” Samara murmured, so close now that her chest was brushing against his. “That’s the real reason, right?” She tilted her head slightly, triumph radiating from her as soon as Dany looked away again. “Or am I wrong?”

The last few words were whispered, her breath - smelling sweet, with an alcoholic tinge - warm on his neck.

He couldn’t help it. He couldn’t have.

He showed weakness - he swallowed.

Mara’s smirk grew.

“You know, if you want me so badly,” Mara continued conversationally, balancing on his shoulders now. Automatically, Dany went to steady her as she leaned into him - and cursed himself silently for falling for the trap, when his hands found the bare skin of her sides, warm and with curves that perfectly fit into his hands. “I’m right here.”

Mara raised an eyebrow as Dany’s facade broke - the perfectly blank, almost bored expression making way for pure confusion and wide eyes.

“You’re - you’re drunk.” Dany said uncertainly, careful to keep her at arms distance. Mara only smiled. “Just - just get into the car and you can - sleep it off-”

“You know, I kind of just don’t feel like doing that?” Mara hummed.

He clamped his mouth shut as, eyes on him, Mara sauntered over to the car and sat on the hood.

They said nothing for a few moments, challenging each other silently. Daring the other to make another move, to try and be in control.

She wasn’t wrong. Of course she wasn’t - and they both knew it, the same way they both knew that the way she was sitting on the damned hood of the car was to show off her legs.

She didn’t look beautiful tonight. Well, she did - of course she did, she always did to Dany -, but this was more than that. So… Much more.

They’d had to share the bedroom at the Zafar house while the other members of the family were still there; but they’d barely spoken when not in public and certainly not touched. She needed her space. Danyal understood that. After everything that had happened at the wedding, he was amazed she was still there at all - and he wasn’t some kind of animal, he could control himself. Of course he’d wait.

But he’d been so preoccupied with Mara’s feelings, that he’d forgotten everything else.

Until he’d seen her on that stage.

He’d known, as she’d swayed her hips in time to the music and elicited hoots of approval from customers and dancers alike, that she’d been doing it for him. To piss him off, to get his attention. If he’d doubted the attention part before, he certainly wasn’t now.

He didn’t want to look at her the way he was right then. He didn’t. But he couldn’t help himself.

Because she’d been right.

She was in short black dungarees, a tight-fitting cropped white T-shirt that showed off her dancer’s body and siren red lipstick to match her high heels. Now, Dany watched as she pulled her hair from the messy ponytail she’d kept it in, shaking it slightly at the roots as it fell into natural, tousled waves.

He hated how he couldn’t look away. It was a game. This was all some kind of game.

And yet… A part of him was desperate to keep playing it.

“You’re really pretending to not think about it?” Mara finally asked knowingly.

“You’re drunk, you don’t know what you’re saying.” Dany replied robotically. What did he do? What was happening? What did he do?

Mara smirked again.

“I’m really not as drunk as I’m letting you think I am.”

He wished.

“If you were sober at all, you would not be suggesting…” His confidence faltered as he struggled to find the right words, Mara watched him with raised eyebrows. “You wouldn’t be coming up with this kind of… Plan.” He finished feebly.

“No, if anything, it proves how aware I am. It’s ideal, really.” Mara told him, crossing one leg over the other and leaning on her arms. Danyal pretended to look down the road, rather than acknowledge how long her legs looked in front of him. Supermodel legs. “I mean, we’re both incredibly frustrated at how things have turned out, aren’t we? Me in my gilded cage, you my keeper.”

Danyal rolled his eyes.

“This is a way of… Releasing that frustration.” She shrugged - before walking towards him. Dany crossed his arms over his chest, helpless as he watched the car keys disappear into her back pocket. Maybe it was hope - maybe he was just imagining things - but for a split second, his mind registered that she wasn’t as wobbly on her feet as before. “I think it’s really rather sensible. Well done me.”

Dany shook his head, as Mara stared up at him from underneath those damned eyelashes, chewing on the inside of her lip.

“Whatever point it is you think you’re trying to prove-” Dany clamped his mouth shut as Mara yanked him forward by the belt loop of his jeans.

“I don’t need to prove a point, you already did it for me by manoeuvring that hot mess people are calling a wedding.” Mara said sweetly, biting back further amusement as Dany did everything he could to avoid eye contact. The empty road was so interesting! Or the tree in the corner. Fuck, even the dirt underneath his shoe. It was frustrating because Dany didn’t quite know why he couldn’t look at Samara… And yet he knew the more space between them, the better. “I know you find me attractive and I know the only thing that stopped you before was this knight complex you have going on-”

This time, Dany did look at her - with incredulity. “What? That’s what you think?”

“- but you quite nicely sorted out that little problem for your already questionable conscience by putting a ring on it, so let me reassure you-” She yanked on the belt loop again slightly, jerking Dany forwards so that their faces were inches apart. The street lamps behind them meant half of his face was in shadow and there was a cold breeze that made her shiver against his body - something that didn’t go unnoticed, seeing as Dany’s whole body seemed to tense. “- I am a little drunk, but only enough to know that I would be too proud to say this sober.” No reaction. Mara sighed. “Let me put it this way - I want someone’s hands on me and it’d be in your best interests for those hands to be yours.”

Dany’s face remained the same - that frustrating impassive -, but Mara smirked to herself as she felt his breathing get heavier against her chest.

“Why do I feel like I’ll regret this later?” Dany finally said - and just like that, Mara’s mouth went from a smirk to a full blown, Cheshire cat smile. “So what’s your plan? You won’t get in the car-”

“I mean, we’re standing in the middle of SoHo, if we ever got really desperate, there are at least several street corners we could disappear into and nobody would bat an eyelid.” Mara quipped - and even though it was the very last thing he wanted to do, as their eyes met, Dany couldn’t help but match the smile Mara too was trying to fight, at her own quick humour.

The smiles faded as their eyes stayed on each other.

Mara’s breathing… Stuttered slightly as, as carefully as if she were made of glass, Dany’s hands moved from her hips to her ass, pushing the two of them closer.

Mara’s slapped her hands over his as his fingers spread, ignoring the tingling she suddenly felt from her throat down to her ankles.

“Nice try, but you don’t get those keys until you pick a side.”

Dany’s eyes narrowed as Mara stared up at him in defiance. The tips of his little fingers were brushing against where denim ended and skin began and, unthinkingly, they began to trace small circles.

It could have been seconds. It could have been minutes. Who knew?

“Oh, fuck this.” Dany finally muttered - and Mara laughed into his mouth as she found it smashed against hers.

Within seconds, she was squashed between Danyal’s body and the cold car, her back automatically arching as she shivered into him from the icy metal.

They were kissing. This was happening.

His stubble was rough and chafed against her cheek as he kissed her, her rings scratching against his scalp as her fingers tangled in his hair; they scrambled against the, their whereabouts forgotten, to push Mara up higher so that her legs could wrap around his waist, making her hum in approval as, once successful, she felt his torso, strong and firm, against the bare inside of her thighs through his thin shirt.

He smelt like the smoke of the strip club and his own aftershave, like a damned warning, every breath of it she took in reminding her that this was a terrible, stupid choice - but that was what somehow made it better, what made her kiss him harder and pull him tighter and press her pelvis up against his chest before she could think better of it.

Fuck who saw them. Fuck what they were doing, fuck how complicated everything was. For every reason she could think of to stop, the feeling of Danyal’s hot tongue in her mouth and how their bodies writhed against each other with each move of it was a reason to carry on. She was breathless; they both were, kissing furiously and not pausing, because if they did the spell might break and that was the last thing either one of them wanted. No more reality. No more thinking.

His hands were all over her, ass to the bare skin of her waist, to the inside of her thighs and back again. She couldn’t keep her eyes open - but when they did flutter at the feeling of Dany dragging his lips down her neck, his stubble grazing the path, she could only see her wedding ring glinting in the darkness from where it rest against his cheek, keeping him in place as he moved.

He was rough, but not too rough - he pulled her by the roots of her hair to give him more access to her neck, but only hard enough to leave her grinding her hips against his chest again, her hands gripping him by the waist. Every time they moved against each other, he made a small grunt as her heels pressed into his behind and every time he did, Mara couldn’t help a smug smile.

“You’re a - you’re an - an - asshole.” Mara managed to say between silent gasps, gripping the back of his neck with all of the strength she had. He was. He was a fucking nightmare, this was all of his fault, this whole damned mess was his fault - and she was proven right, right by how he smirked into their next kiss, their kisses so hard that it felt like they were both bruising each other. That’s what it felt like. A million bruises, each one packing its own punch, a sensory overload that took her out of her own head, one that she didn’t want to stop.  “Put - put me d- the car -”

Dany nodded - but neither one of them moved, still tangled in each other, their surroundings silent save for the sounds of their lips messily moving against one another and their bodies writhing against the car.

When Dany finally let go, Mara threw him the keys - and seeing one another like that, seeing Dany’s hair sticking up in odd places and with red lipstick smudged all over the both of them, made their eyes sparkle with lust.

*

“So you fucked him in the red Corvette?” Pixie gasped, scandalised. “That is my favourite car, you tramp-”

Back in New York, Mara began to splutter at the phone in horror.

“Wh - I - no! No!” She said quickly. Why had she decided to tell Pixie this, again?! “No, no, we did not fuck in the Corvette, oh my God, Pix!”

“Well, then, what happened next? Details, now, I honestly didn’t know my cousin had it in him-”

Mara grimaced at her use of the word cousin.

“No. No more details.” She muttered, the anaesthetic - and the memory - leaving a horrible taste in her mouth. There was something nasty about remembering it in the harsh light of the hospital room. The few times she’d allowed herself to remember were… Were times when she’d been alone, in the dark and in bed, using the memory recreationally and knowing full well the disgust and embarrassment she’d feel for it afterwards.

Except, unfortunately, now it was too late to just stick back into a box in the back of her head.

She remembered it all.

The way their lips had met again within seconds of slamming the car doors shut behind them. How Danyal had almost crashed three times on the drive back, speeding and skipping red lights, as she’d deliberately stared at him, breathing heavy, as her hand had slipped under her dungarees (Mara cringed to think it). They hadn’t even made it up the stairs without her dungarees being left in a puddle behind them.

Mara felt her face go hot underneath her hands. Uuuurgh, she hated herself.

“So is this the real reason why you stopped drinking?”

Peering between her fingers, Mara stared at the phone incredulously.

“Um, yes, is that not enough of a reason?” Mara huffed. “I - I - I woke up the next day, realised what an utter… Moron I’d been and I got the Hell out of there-”

“Why are you telling me this, Sammy? Hmm?” Pixie was the only person to call Samara Sammy, the same way Mara was the only one to call Pixie Pix. She sighed. “What? You want to do it again? Pick up where you left off?”

“Is this not weird for you to even say out loud?” Mara groaned. “How can you be so - so… No, I don’t want a repeat, I just-”

“Oh my God, you so do, I can hear how thirsty you are and I’m a continent away.” Pixie cackled gleefully. “What’s stopping you?”

“I don’t know, Pix, the imminent threat of departure?!”

“Are you planning on leaving him, then? For sure?”

“I- I don’t know, I just-” Mara struggled helplessly. “But we’re meant to talk and after that happened, I just - I just needed someone to understand that - it’s - it’s complicated, how are we meant to talk without actually talking about that-”

“Then don’t talk about it, use your hospital time to do the opposite of talking-”

“No, Pix, I don’t know what to do-”

“What you want! Do what you want, Sammy, you’re married to what used to be one of the most eligible bachelors on the planet who apparently is not living up to the stereotype of his reputation being more impressive than his skillset, enjoy it!”

“You’re not - I told you, it’s more complicated-”

“Maybe more than I thought before, but nothing a quickie in the Corvette can’t fix.”

“You’re the worst, you are being of no help at all, where is the emotional support-”

“Honey, you didn’t become friends with me for emotional support. You became friends with me because I don’t spout bullshit.” Pixie told her smugly. “Now, I’m bored of this conversation. Keep me posted and get well soon. Bye.”

“Wait, I-” Mara began - but the call had already ended, leaving Mara alone in the silent hospital room. “That’s… Awesome.” Mara muttered to herself, sighing.

Pixie didn’t understand. Nobody did. That was the whole problem.

Whether she had wanted to or not, Mara had… Opened up a conversation with Danyal, before the surgery. A conversation she couldn’t have, even if they needed to, because she didn’t know where she stood in it.

So far, she’d managed to dodge discussing… Everything, any of it, but now? Now how was she meant to carry it on? When the last time they’d seen each other was… That night? Or even after what Danyal had said? Love you. Present tense.

She was angry, she was. It was… Frustrating! How could he just say that, so easily? Love wasn’t a light word. It was heavy with meaning and commitment and other terrible, horrible things that created an automatic response for Mara to run in the opposite direction when she thought of them. She’d had so many people say they loved her and yet it always amounted to her getting hurt. Being hurt. And Danyal was no different. He’d done the same thing, like everyone else, on their wedding. He’d betrayed her trust.

How was she meant to make him understand that? How, when maybe what he’d done was right?

It was fucked up. It was so fucked up and - and wrong! The thought of someone actually knowing what was best for her that wasn’t herself? At a time when she’d been so desperate to find that part of herself? No! It wasn’t - it wasn’t fair, it wasn’t right!

… But here she was, sitting in hospital because of Dany. Because of the ties he’d forced her to have. She’d admitted to herself on the way back from the gym that she’d decided, once everything had imploded with her parents after the surgery, to come back to the Zafars, to New York, whether she’d wanted to or not. Of course Dany had been a part of that. She’d known he’d be back in New York for his birthday.

How could both things make sense in her head? Because they did. How could they?

What was she going to say to him? How was she meant to explain?

“I heard you on the phone.” Mara winced slightly, keeping her eyes trained on her hands, at the sound of that voice. A voice that only meant trouble. “You seemed… More awake than before, so I brought you coffee. If you wanted it, obviously.”

Mara nodded - before taking a silent, deep breath and looking up at him - the cause of all of the trouble, Danyal, hovering awkwardly in the doorway.

“You look terrible.” She mumbled, offering a half-smile. She wasn’t lying. Underneath Dany’s eyes were deep-set dark circles and he hadn’t shaved, his hair sticking up in odd places. Dany said nothing, standing there in his crumpled jumper and skinny jeans. “Here.” She motioned for the coffee.

Handing it to her carefully, Dany sat in the armchair that Mara just knew he’d slept in, pushing the blanket aside.

“I think we should-”

“Can we talk-”

They both stopped, hesitating awkwardly, for interrupting the other.

“Me first?” Mara asked, smiling politely as Dany nodded. She placed the coffee on the table - it was too hot - wincing slightly, and immediately ignoring how Dany seemed to want to reach out to help her. She sighed.

What was she meant to say? How was she meant to say it? Forget how much he may have heard - she couldn’t be bothered to think about how that was about to impact things. The more she thought, the more confused she’d become.

“It wasn’t some magical moment. Maybe that’s what’s making it so hard.” She finally began, hoping that, what she’d previously found to be Danyal’s annoying tendency to read her mind, would suddenly come in handy.  If the way he seemed to tense was any indication, she was in luck. “And I know, I do, I know I should be used to that by now, but-”

“But what?” Dany interrupted, looking confused - and angry, too. Mara chewed on the inside of her lip, feeling like a child. “You thought, after everything that happened, you wouldn’t?”

“Not so soon.” She admitted quietly, ignoring how Dany began to shake his head. “Maybe not ever.  Look, I’m - I’m trying here, I’m trying to be honest-”

“Not so soon?” Dany repeated, ignoring her. Mara sighed. “Not so soon? So you thought about it happening, at least?”

“Dan- Danyal, please-”

“You’ve just had corrective surgery for a kidney transplant you didn’t tell anyone about.” Dany told her seriously, clenching his jaw. “And now is when you choose to be honest?”

“That’s what you’re seriously upset about?” Mara asked in disbelief. Dany shook his head again, as if she was somehow the one missing the point. “Now? I’m finally having this conversation with you, one you say you’ve waited to have for so long-”

“I have-”

“Then why does this matter? Why does it matter that this is why we’re having it?!” Mara motioned with her hands to the hospital room.

“Because I’m meant to be looking after you!” Dany snapped - before sighing, as Mara shrunk slightly into the bed, his words… Frightening her. Not his tone. His words. For fuck’s sake, why did he keep saying things that just… Confused her more?! “I - what did you think? That marrying you and yes, yeah, I did hope that was how it would end and I shouldn’t have done it that way, but when I married you, did you think it was nothing? That I didn’t know what I was promising?”

Mara swallowed, trying to buy herself time.

“I - I don’t know.” She replied weakly, struggling to form coherent sentences when Danyal was looking at her so… Earnestly. “Maybe. I don’t know what went through your head-”

Dany laughed, though not because he found anything particularly funny.

“What went through my head was that I couldn’t lose you and you didn’t want to lose me and that was the only way I knew how to fix things, because you were too scared to understand your feelings.” Dany muttered, his voice laced with irritation. He was even scowling as he said it. Mara didn’t know what to say. “You know that-”

“No, I don’t-” At this point, she was arguing more on reflex than anything else.

“Why would you put yourself through this?” Dany demanded, setting his coffee aside. Mara sighed, collapsing against her pillows and closing her eyes. “Why would you give him a kidney after - after the way he treated you, after everything we did to get rid of him-”

“Everything you did.” Mara muttered to herself… And when there was no answer, she opened her eyes.

Dany was staring at her, temporarily speechless, with round, horrified eyes.

“If I did something wrong - if you changed your mind about your Dad when I told him to leave - Mara, I’m sorry-”

“Urgh, no, don’t do that. Don’t.” Mara groaned. The night of their wedding; when her father had shown up at their hotel and Dany had sent him away. “Don’t - whatever happened between me and him, it’s not something you should be apologising for, Christ-”

“Yes, it is, if I failed you-”

Mara immediately stared at him in disbelief - after staring in incredulity at the sky.

“This isn’t about you, Danyal! Or your pride! This is a decision I made, I’m a grown ass woman, I can handle my own decisions-”

“Urgh, Samara!” Dany groaned. “I’m not saying this is about me or my pride, I’m just - I was trying to help-”

“And in case you hadn’t noticed, Danyal, you trying to help me somehow never ends up the way you want it to.” Mara burst, unable to help the ironic peal of laughter that fell out too.

It was reflexive; at the sound of her laughter, wry and ironic but without the bitterness he’d already heard so many times… Dany managed a sad smile.

Something ached in Mara’s chest. It just felt so… Familiar.

Mara hid her face, pretending to focus on fiddling with the hospital sheets, to try and hide her tears.

“When did everything… Change?” She asked quietly - and immediately closed her eyes, blocking out the sight of Danyal opening his mouth so speak, knowing exactly what he was about to say. “Please… Don’t - say it, don’t repeat yourself. I can’t hear that again, not - not yet, I just-” She shook her head, her eyes still squeezed shut. She cringed even more, remembering how… Similar this conversation was, to one they’d had once before. “I - I genuinely don’t understand. We were nothing-”

“Nothing?” Dany repeated sharply.

Mara’s eyes flew open, only to squeeze in annoyance again - this time, at her own words.

“That’s not what I meant, I just - how can you even know that you mean it?” She tried to sound reasonable; she tried to sound… Fair. Instead, she just came out patronising. “Don’t look at me like that, Danyal!” That currently meant a poker face tinged with silent outrage. It was a look specific to the eldest Zafar sibling’s face. “You said you loved Divya. We went through that whole charade because of you saying that, constantly-”

Dany was already shaking his head before she’d finished talking.

“Samara, please tell me you’re not serious.” He said, setting his coffee cup aside. Mara rolled her eyes. Here we go. Why was it that every conversation they had ended up here? Frustrating and counterproductive?! “I know it’s different with you-”

“No, you don’t know, you don’t and that’s the whole point!” Mara burst - and fuck it, she was here now, this was happening, so why bother holding back? Where had that gotten her? Oh. Right. In hospital, in New York, struggling to say all the things she needed to with this idiot.

How many times had she gone through this? Imagined this scenario? Created a perfectly crafted script?

Internally, she sighed to herself. When was she just going to accept that her life wasn’t perfect?

“Have you ever just considered,” Samara said through greeted teeth, taking a deep breath and ignoring the slight dull ache she felt coming from her stomach. “That maybe, just maybe, Danyal, your view of love is a little bit skewered?” She continued quickly, seeing the indignation on Danyal’s face, raising her voice. “You grew up hearing about your parents. Your parents, who are not the rest of the world. Who had to deal with difficulties and strain in their relationship, before they were even together-”

“What is your point?” Dany interrupted. Mara took a deep breath as he stared at her, incredulous. “I know about my parents-”

“And you assumed that whatever you had with Divya was real, the first girl you’d ever been with, because it was difficult and you weren’t together yet and you assumed it was l - shit!”

Dany immediately stood to attention as Mara winced, the pain in her stomach sharper than before.

“I’m fine, I’m fine.” She lied, swatting Dany’s awkward, hovering hands away. Too tired to continue shouting, she motioned for him to sit on the bed - but he remained standing, eyeing her with a stern expression that, she knew, was just a mask for concern. “I just… You don’t know, Danyal. You jumped from her to me. That’s not…” The L-word lodged in her throat. “That sounds more like a rebound than anything else.”

“I know what this is.” Dany muttered, shaking his head. “Just because you don’t want to feel like you’re worth that, doesn’t make it any less true.”

Mara’s head jerked up at that. How did he do that? Get inside of her head, ruin everything? She wanted to have an answer! He’d leave the room in ten seconds and a million brilliant, witty scathing ones would enter her head - because ordinarily, they were already there -, but with him, everything was delayed. She wasn’t herself.

How could they have what he thought they did when she was a different person around him? Only him?

For once, pride worked to her strength; instead of looking away as her eyes filled up with tears, of frustration and anger and disappointment - and not just at him, at everything, at her parents, at her life, at being in a hospital bed sitting in front of Danyal Zafar at all - she stared at him belligerently, taking some comfort in the sadness that flitted across his face at her pain.

“I’m sorry, I-” Dany sighed, running a hand through his hair. She kept staring. She didn’t trust herself to stay in… Control, if she opened her mouth. She’d leant on him when she hadn’t wanted to enough times before. “You need rest and this isn’t helping, I’m sorry. I’ll… I’ll go.”

Samara pressed her lips together, hard, as with a sigh, Danyal headed for the door.

Hoe, don’t do it, she warned herself. Don’t you fucking dare, you a strong and independent young woman, don’t you dare - she repeated it over and over, hoping it would sink in.

He was halfway to the door when some of that slipped out.

“Don’t.” Not the part she wanted - and she felt it afresh, like she did every time she thought about their wedding, every time she was honest and it hurt. Disappointment in herself for being so weak. Fear that, just like he’d said, Danyal was right to know her better than she did herself.

A part of him almost wanted him to keep moving, as for a split second, he stilled in the middle of the room. It would make things easier. The lines wouldn’t be so blurred.

But he didn’t do that. Instead, as if he’d been planning on doing it all along, he immediately turned on his heel and sat back down in the armchair next to her bed.

Samara swallowed back her tears, telling herself it was from the anaesthetic that was still working wearing off, as she shuffled in bed, turning her head away from him.

As her shoulders tensed in her efforts to not cry, she felt Danyal’s hand on hers - and as much as she hated herself for it, as confusing and horrible and weak as she felt, she clutched it so hard back that she thought her bones may break.

She took a few minutes to try and compose herself - and if it hadn’t been for the vice-like grip still on his hand, Dany may have thought she’d fallen asleep.

“I miss my friend.” She finally admitted, her voice thick and heavy from emotions she hated on the regular. “I just want my friend back, Dany.”

Silent seconds, ones that felt like minutes, ticked by - and then, in a voice that was sure and strong and so similar to the voice she remembered from simpler, happier times, he replied -

“I haven’t gone anywhere.”

It made her feel physically sick to think that maybe, just maybe… Maybe this whole time, he had been right.

*

Conde Nast Headquarters, One World Trade Centre Manhattan, New York

“Hello, Esme. Is she busy?”

“Oh, hi, Mr Zafar!” Esme, on of Soph’s many, enthusiastic young assistants, beamed up at him. “The last I checked she was on a call to the board, but there’s nobody in there so go right ahead!”

Aman nodded, already halfway through the door.

“Yes, of course - no, absolutely.” Soph muttered, smiling as Aman, upon entering the office, bent down to kiss her on the forehead. She watched as he collapsed onto the sofa in the corner,  throwing his blazer to the side and pulling on his tie. God forbid he would just take a board position and look after himself over the damned company. “No, honestly. Yes. Okay. Okay, bye.”

“Long day?” Aman asked, closing his eyes and letting his head rest against the sofa back - and not being at all surprised when, a few seconds later, he felt Soph slip under his arm, her head resting against his chest.

Soph hummed.

They sat there in silence for a few minutes, Aman’s arm falling from the sofa back to rub circles into Soph’s bare shoulder.

“I should have spoken to you first.” Aman finally said, looking down at her. Soph said nothing, looking up at him. “I’m sorry, I just… She was so excited. And I thought if I told her-”

“Aman, don’t pretend you didn’t manipulate Zarina’s interest in the land acquisition.” Soph huffed, shaking her head. Aman sighed as Soph pulled away, forcing him to face her. “What are you doing? She’d hate the idea of being lied to-”

“I don’t want her to feel pressured-”

“So you’re betraying her trust in you instead?”

“No, I’m not, she’s my daughter and I am trying to help her.” Aman said sternly. Soph shook her head. Aman sat up a little straighter. “Look at what happened with Raj! She felt pressured, she said no-”

“And I’ve told you, I don’t think that’s over-”

“She wants it to be and that’s all I need to know.” Aman replied quickly, sighing as Soph got to her feet and began to pace. “What have I done that’s so terrible? This way, she can get to know him and if they like each other-”

“Aman, she is going to feel ambushed! Even if she does end up liking him, taking away anything natural about it will make her run the other way-”

“You don’t know that-”

“Of course I do, she’s our daughter!” Soph laughed, without humour. “Of course she’ll run in the opposite direction! She throws herself into her work, just like we used to and ignores anyone telling her she needs anyone else, because she doesn’t want to believe it, and she shouldn’t-”

“She does not need this boy. Or any other boy. The only people she needs are her family.” Aman said sharply… And although it was in a voice that would have had anybody else quivering, the years had done nothing to Soph’s only response being an unimpressed expression. “But… But she could be happier! She shouldn’t feel like she has to feel alone, what’s wrong with me wanting that for her? You said so yourself, he sounds like a nice boy-”

“It’s not about us finding him nice, Aman.” Soph paused her pacing to stare at her husband in shock. “We didn’t choose each other and we ended up fine! Why can’t you trust her own judgements, her own taste?”

“I never said I didn’t-”

“No, you’re just deciding that this boy may be a good match for her and sending her, unknowingly, to meet him for what she thinks is a business meeting!” Soph scoffed. “Have you thought about what he may say to her? How she may feel like the business?”

“Do you honestly think I’m that stupid?” Aman huffed, smoothly reverting from English into Urdu… Which, to anyone else, signalled something serious. “Of course nobody thinks she’s there to… Meet him for that reason! They know she’s representing this company, this family-”

“And since when did people so easily accept a beautiful young girl only being interested in her career?” Soph challenged, matching his bilingualism.

“Other people living in the past isn’t my problem,” Aman said hotly, his temper flaring now, too. “Our daughter is a beautiful, intelligent, fantastic young woman who is an asset to any company she chooses to work for-”

“And if you trust her so much, she should be able to make this decision!”

“I’m not forcing her, Soph! If she likes him, then there’s nothing standing between them and if she doesn’t, so what?”

“How do you know she’ll like him? Just because he’s good for her on paper-”

“- we know our little girl-”

“The way we knew Tara?” Soph challenged, in English again - and Aman stared up at her in surprise, as if he’d been slapped, as her eyes began to take on a new, watery sheen. She slipped into Urdu again. “I’ve already lost one daughter on the assumption we know her, I’m not losing another one!”

“Tara made her own choices. Informed ones.” Aman said grimly, his jaw setting firmly. Ignoring Soph’s immediate head-shaking, he continued, staring at the floor. “No, don’t defend her. She knew what she was doing and Zarina is nothing like that, we can trust her, Tara chose not to be a part of this family-”

“Tara’s a child-”

“And look how much we tried to do for her, how we tried to help her.” The calm in Aman’s voice, after all these years, was no longer intimidating; nor was it comforting, for that matter. It was irritating, because it acted like an off-switch to Soph’s anger, whether she wanted it to or not. “Are you honestly telling me my shehzadi doesn’t deserve more? After what she’s endured? That she doesn’t deserve to have help in finding happiness?”

“Don’t you dare put those words in my mouth, Aman.” Soph warned. Before he could open his mouth to protest, she continued. “Of course I want those things for her! But the moment she knows we had any hand in this, she will feel pressured, to fake her own happiness for our sake-”

“If it works out with this boy, why does she have to know?” Her husband demanded, finally rising to his feet. Soph stared at him in disbelief. “I’m serious, don’t look so shocked! If she finds happiness with someone, why do we need to tell her she received help? Why do we need applause for it?”

“I’m not saying we do, but I’m pointing out how easily this could hurt her - and she’s going in blind, considering someone as a life partner versus a business associate are two very different things-”

“Was it different for us?”

Soph shot her husband a look of long-suffering.

“We weren’t looking to go into business with one another.”

“That’s not the point.” Aman said, half-smiling. Soph shook her head… Immediately fighting her own. “If she likes him, as a business partner or not, she’ll stay. And we know where she is, who she’s around and that she’s safe and that’s something I failed her in before.”

Soph’s shoulders sagged - and, forgetting everything else they’d said, she stepped forwards, cupping Aman’s face in her hands.

“Aman, listen to me.” She sighed, her eyes filling up with tears. “You can’t spend the rest of her life trying to make up for something that isn’t your fault. And if you failed her as a parent, then I did too-”

Aman shook his head, his jaw still clenched, as he fought back tears of his own. Even now, Soph hated seeing him like this; hurting, feeling like he’d failed. Not when she’d seen what real failures in a person looked like, and he’d been the one to pull her away.

“You’re not her father. I am. It was my job to protect her then and I didn’t, but in this way, I can.”

Soph shook her head - but, knowing nothing she could say would ever make any difference, silently pulled his neck downwards and pressed her forehead against his.

“Aman, just because she may stay for the challenge, doesn’t mean she could like him - or love him, or be happy with him-” Soph stopped, seeing the wry smile that began to flicker over Aman’s face, slowly replacing the sadness. “What?”

“She’s our daughter.” He told her quietly - confidently, too, as if she were missing the obvious. “If he’s the challenge to her I think he is, wanting to stay for the challenge and wanting to stay for him won’t be that different.”

Soph raised an eyebrow.

“Sounds as if someone’s talking from experience.” She sighed.

Aman pulled her close, before giving her soft, chaste kiss on the lips - one that, even years and children and life’s nightmares later, made Soph feel like she was in her twenties again, falling uncontrollably with a man she knew she shouldn’t. Free-fall. Even after all of this time, that kiss felt like free-fall.

“That’s how we found each other.”

“Not everyone’s like us.” Soph warned.

“No.” Aman agreed. “But she’ll do better.”

Soph sighed to herself internally as she clutched him close, wishing she could share his faith… But she couldn’t. Because she had a horrible feeling that, at that age, Ari was just like her.

*

New York to Islamabad, En Route Zafar Family Jet

Of their fourteen hour flight, there was only three left… And Ari was hoping to keep up the record so far, of her and Raj’s awkward silence.

She hadn’t wanted it to be awkward, of course. But it was.

The first few hours hadn’t been too bad; she’d been focused on work, prepping for her meeting. Pixie’s future father-in-law was the Minister of Culture; she’d already asked Pixie, who was already his darling favourite, to arrange for a quiet corner for them to discuss the project. After that, Ari could - as if she hadn’t already - set up a visit to Lahore over the next few days, amongst the wedding preparations, to meet the mysterious businessman behind the deal himself.

Ari chewed on the inside of her lip, glancing out of the window. She closed her eyes behind her sunglasses, feeling the warmth of the sun and the brightness of the sky on her face through the plastic-reinforced glass… And recited all of her research again.

A (presumably) filthy-rich businessman of the name Khalid Ahmed - at least, according to the documents on public record - had acquired the land underneath one of Pakistan’s major UNESCO Heritage Sites; the Lahore Fort and its surrounding Shalima Gardens, both of which had began to fall into further disrepair than age, due to the UNESCO financial scandal from almost twenty years prior.

The Pakistani government had offered to donate a significant sum to the renovations, provided UNESCO could provide the rest; but, unable to make such a commitment and under pressure to maintain other sites in Western countries, they had denied, causing a standstill. Without the UNESCO Heritage status, there was little anyone else would be able to do in terms of protecting it; but with a structure that had existed since the sixteenth century, the status meant nothing without the funds to keep it maintained.

Enter Mr Ahmed. He’d approached the Pakistani government and UNESCO as one, she remembered, offering to buy the land deep to the site. This, he’d argued in a written statement also found in public record, would give him a personal incentive to see the property on his land restored, using private funds and investors. His return would be rent paid, partly by UNESCO and the Pakistani government from the funds they’d hoped to spend on repairs, for a lease on the newly-bought land… And one of the most ambitious property deals in business history.

For the government, it worked out cheaper to pay towards a regular lease than the hassle of a full restoration, as well as the unexpected finances any big building project would accumulate. For UNESCO, it helped their PR nightmare in showing that people were still willing to work with them - even if it meant that their access to the project itself was riddled with fine print and where the money was used was beyond their control.

Despite all of this planning, however - and Ari couldn’t help but roll her eyes at the thought -, nobody had stopped to consider how they would announce this news to the public.

They had not been happy.

To many, even those perhaps not the most… Privileged, when it came to education, saw the Fort as a shining example of what had once been; of a rich and diverse cultural history shared with other parts of the region. In layman’s terms, it seemed as if Khalid Ahmed were buying a piece of history and capitalising on it - and seeing as political reform in Pakistan was still relatively new, it felt to many like a step backwards.

As Ari had mentioned to her father; it was a PR nightmare. An image of bulldozers and cranes heading into the gardens had been used by news outlets everywhere, even internationally; and not even Soph’s influence on trying to create a more balanced view had done much good. It also didn’t help that Mr Ahmed didn’t seem very… Camera-friendly; although it had taken the use of a private investigator, a very short look into his life had found a hedonistic, lavish lifestyle, including a thirteen-second video of Mr Ahmed at a club in Amsterdam, surrounded by sex workers.

Thankfully, nobody else had seen the footage; but his living in the shadows had only made the public more suspicious. As they’d been preparing to board, Ari had been reading a recent piece from the past twelve hours, questioning whether ‘Mr Ahmed’ was just a non-existent crime cover-up, as part of a laundering scheme.

It was made worse by the fact that ‘anonymous sources’ claimed, should Mr Ahmed be satisfied with this venture, he would be next settling his eyes on the Badshahi Mosque, also in Lahore; another centuries old structure known for its architecture and history, as well as still being an active place of worship.

That was what had turned the deal from a PR mess to Hell on Earth. Protestors had been camped outside of the Gardens for weeks, preventing workers from entering and destroying whatever equipment and supplies they could. Mr Ahmed had been forced to hire security teams to watch the site around the clock, which, even when not accounting for the over twenty hectares of land, had been of… Very little help.

Not that any of that mattered.

Ari knew she’d be able to fix all of that.

Zarina Zafar was Pakistan’s darling - and India’s too. She was young and attractive and always camera ready; stylish but not fashionable; modest but not outdated. She balanced her identities as Pakistani, Indian, English and Muslim all at once, with an air of naturalness that left the public breathless. She worked for her parents, had never been snapped or rumoured to be doing anything untoward and her private life was kept secret, despite her wide circle of celebrities and powerful figures being only complimentary.

She was considered the epitome of class, grace and mixed cultural identity in two nations that warred with the overpowering identity of the young Western man or woman. She was everything people wanted their children to be and, by some miracle, everything people her age wanted to be in the press; charming, put together and just the right amount of goofy on her Instagram stories.

Of course, the whole thing was an act - or, at least a large majority of it. Ari was in publishing, for God’s sake. She knew how to present an aesthetic.

And that was exactly what she would do with the Fort project. It would still require careful planning, of course, but it could be done - Ari convincing the public that this was in their interest, all the while supporting the Zafar family name. She could do it. She knew she could. It wasn’t cockiness or over-confidence - this was what Ari did every day at Vogue in London.

The only variable was how… Amiable Mr Ahmed would be to work with. Especially seeing as he was allergic to being in the public eye, which was already part of the problem.

Well… Part of the problem. Although it was a minor loophole at best, the Minister of Culture needed to approve the Zafars’ involvement in the project - and that was fine. But seeing as she hadn’t yet had the opportunity to visit Lahore, it would probably take some bluffing…

… That would be easier done if Ari had the safety net of being able to hang up.

She paused - before quickly texting Pixie, seeing if she could arrange the meeting for… Now.

Forget waiting around in Islamabad for a few days. Ari was too excited. Plus, realistically, once she was in Pixie’s sights, she wouldn’t be let out of them - not to mention Sarfaraz pressuring her to babysit Raj… And her brother and Samara could arrive at any moment…

Ari played a game of Tetris 4 - the entire family, save her mother, were locked in a fiercely competitive private league, of which Kabir held the title - as she waited for Pixie’s reply, purposefully not looking in Raj’s direction. A few times, she’d wanted to try and… Talk - the flight seemed like a wasted opportunity otherwise - but thankfully, her most useful trait had given her the wisdom not to.

Stubbornness; it was stubbornness - because if Raj was waiting for her to go back on their agreement of playing nice for Pixie’s wedding, he could wait forever.

Barely a few minutes later, Pixie had text her back, with a video meeting set for the next two minutes.

“Hey!” Ari hissed, throwing a pen - and landing it square in Raj’s temple - at her sleeping jet-mate, making him jump slightly and glare at her. “I’m on a business call, don’t interrupt me.”

With an irritated look that clearly highlighted he had been better off left asleep, Ari turned away and quickly patted down her hair - before pressing on the number Pixie had sent.

It answered on the second ring.

The Minister immediately greeted her in Arabic, to which Ari correctly responded.

“So, Miss Zafar, what can I do for you? Were we not set to meet once you landed?”

“Yes, sir, we were - but actually, I knew that once I landed for the wedding, I wouldn’t want to leave!” Ari immediately said, with her chirpiest voice and trademark smile. She didn’t see Raj glance sleepily over his shoulder at her - before smiling slightly as he fell back asleep. “And ultimately, we’re all in Islamabad for such a happy occasion, the less we have to discuss work the better, surely?”

“Of course.” Minister Bilal said kindly. “So you want to discuss your father’s corporation’s involvement with the Fort project?”

Ari sat a little straighter in her chair.

“Yes.” She said resolutely. “As you know, my family and I are deeply interested in preserving our country’s history and even on an international level, my mother has been recognised as a patron of the arts-”

“Miss Zafar.” Ari paused, quick to hide her confusion, as the Minister suddenly seemed… Awkward. “Your family’s involvement is not at question here. The government’s concern is, rather, about how you may be of service.”

Ari paused.

“Excuse me, but I’m not entirely sure I understand your meaning, Minister…” Ari said calmly, her nails digging into her palms underneath the table. If they were happy to have her involved in the project, why was she being forced to jump through hoops? “Are there any doubts in our integrity?”

Ari fought to not raise an eyebrow as the Minister quickly began to tut away such an accusation. Despite it being implied, Ari thought angrily.

Ari didn’t respond well to being questioned. Ever.

“You’re a very shrewd girl, Miss Zafar - and I would expect no less, given the family you come from.” Ari’s mind began to race, because she didn’t like this one bit. Despite knowing it was… Next to impossible, she began to wonder - was this about what had happened to her, in London? What if she was prepositioned? Or they thought she was weak because it had been kept hidden? She’d known this would come out eventually, she knew she would never be able to bury it deep enough - “But let’s not pretend - we don’t have the time amidst such a busy, happy occasion!”

Ari just about managed a polite smile.

“The bad press is bad for the government. It makes my job more difficult, when at this current time, I’d much rather it felt easy!” The Minister smiled. “At first, this… Khalid Ahmed character was an odd quirk for privacy. But the terrible way this has been handled - which you’ll improve, I’m sure - means that his privacy is no longer our concern. Especially after receiving certain… Intelligence. Bring the real man behind the plans into the light. This is my only condition of your involvement.”

… I’m sorry, what?

Thankfully, she stopped herself from saying that aloud.

Knowing the Minister was watching her much too carefully for her to relax, Ari simply decided on… Nodding, understandingly. If was better that he thought she was confused than totally lost, which was the truth - because the real man behind the plans? What the Hell did that mean?

Though the intelligence part? That must have been the video. Ari hadn’t found it too difficult to get hold of the video. She couldn’t imagine it would have been difficult for the Pakistani government, either.

“You do… Know the arrangement regarding Mr Ahmed’s role in the public eye, don’t you, dear?” Minister Bilal asked, his eyes narrowing slightly.

“Of course.” Ari replied easily… Lying through her teeth. She remembered the mega-watt smile of her father’s lawyer, Harvey and all of the lessons he’d taught her with it. “But we’re in the business of discretion. I don’t think it my place to comment, but now that I know what it is I can to do start-” Ari said shrewdly, making Minister Bilal laugh slightly. “- helping, consider it done.”

“It’s that simple?” He laughed. Ari shrugged, trying to feign her irritation as innocence. “Well, I have no reason to doubt you. And when I see you next, no talk of business - we’ll all be becoming family!”

“If God wills.” Ari replied in Arabic, her nails digging so hard into her palms under the table now that her hand was beginning to feel numb. “I’ll see you soon, Minister.”

“Would you like to talk to Pixie before you go?”

Ari fought not to roll her eyes. How transparent. As if she’d forgotten about the wedding; about how, if she messed this up, it could also affect her cousin.

… Okay, maybe she hadn’t realised the Minister would be so transparent (in an underhand sort of way) about it, but it was still insulting to have it done so obviously.

“No, thank you, Minister. It was a pleasure and we’ll all see each other soon.”

Ari had already hung up before he’d finished saying his goodbye.

Ari stared at her blank phone screen for a few moments, chewing on the inside of her lip. That… It hadn’t gone badly.

It also hadn’t gone particularly well.

She’d had her reservations about working with Khalid Ahmed after seeing the intel, for obvious reasons - and if you didn’t respect your business partner, what kind of foundation was that? - but now… She was frazzled. Secret identity? Who would be stupid enough to do that, let alone someone as dumb as whoever it was in the video - and these were questions that needed answering, only if she’d been right in understanding Minister Bilal.

The only person Ari wanted to ask for advice was her father. But she couldn’t. She had to prove she could do this, by herself…

“Everything okay?”

Ari didn’t bother to hide how she rolled her eyes at Raj’s voice.

“Yeah, thanks.”

“Ar - Zarina…” Ari sighed and glanced over to Raj, who was now watching her carefully. “If you need a hand-”

If she wasn’t taking her father’s help, she sure as Hell wasn’t taking her ex-lover’s.

“According to a financial report, two incredibly poor business decisions taken by you cost the Gemini Group almost a quarter of a billion dollars.” Ari interrupted, bored and irritated at having to say it at all. For Raj not knowing better than to keep things between them… Formal. They’d lasted this many hours, hadn’t they? In a compressed metal box in the air? Didn’t he know how to read a room? “I appreciate your offer of help, but I think it needn’t be more conscious than me doing the opposite of what you have recently.”

Yes, she was lashing out - and yes, she felt guilty. But she bit back her urge to apologise and swallowed it, because she and Raj were strictly business. Family business, for now. That was it. There needn’t be any more familiarity than required, thank you very much.

“I was going through a tough time.” Raj told her quietly, his jaw clenched.

Knowing exactly what he meant, Ari raised an eyebrow, turning away towards the window.

“Business is business.” Ari told him, surprised to find that, although she’d said it before… This time, she really meant it. Wasn’t that something? Maybe living in London again hadn’t been such a weak choice after all. “So it sounds pretty pathetic to me.”

Contrary to her last statement, Ari was not a fan of toxic masculinity; she’d suffered at the hands of it before, a thought that automatically made her fingers and toes curl. But she was a fan of Raj’s pride and the distance it would place between them… And judging by the angry stare Ari felt on her shoulder and Raj’s silence, it had worked.

Ari stared down at the brightly coloured fields below, fiddling with her fingers. She’d already made the meetings in Lahore. Who was she meeting with?

Raj would offer to come, if she gave him even the smallest of hints that something was… Sketchy. But she couldn’t be afraid forever. And anyway, who would dare mess with the people’s princess? A Zafar?

They’ve done it before, a solemn voice told her from deep inside of her head.

Ari swallowed. No. Not today.

Picking up her phone, she sent Samara a quick text; asking if she knew enough people in Pakistan to ask around for her. Samara’s nickname on Ari’s phone, the bored-looking emoji, immediately replaced her name upon Ari pressing on it.

Samara replied almost instantly.

> Are you joking? I’m sitting in a hospital bed.

Ari rolled her eyes.

I’m aware. Y/N?

> Probably not, I’m too white to be brown and vice versa. Bonus of being married to your brother. But who?

Ari, ignoring the last comment, typed quickly. From the corner of her eye, she saw Raj was trying to fall back asleep - properly this time.

Business deal stuff.

Thinking for a moment, she quickly added.

Don’t tell my brother. Trying to do this on my own.

Shit. Had she been stupid to ask? Was Samara going to tell Danyal out of pure spite? Ari had trust issues, of course, but she also had difficulty keeping her mouth shut when she wanted something - but surely Samara would understand independence, surely -

> Sure. Ari breathed a small sigh of relief. Her brother would freak out if she knew anything about what Minister Bilal had just said. Actually, it was probably a good thing that, by the time he and Samara arrived in Pakistan and he did find out, theoretically, Ari would have sorted out the whole mess and would be working on the actual project rather than… Silly little politics between silly little boys. The best person to ask would be Tabby, though and it’ll look more suss if I ask than you in random conversation. Ari frowned. Tabina? Samara’s cousin? You okay with that?

Knowing Samara would know better than to be offended - or had been so many times, that she’d stopped caring, Ari replied - which one’s Tabby? All of Samara’s cousins, the set of sisters she’d lived with in New York - her uncle’s children -, looked the same. Tall, dark haired, elfin.

> The one dating Raj.

Now, Ari was usually very in control of her emotions and expressions. It had taken years of trauma and emotional pain to do so and she was pretty proud of it. But in that moment, reading Samara’s last message, Ari physically jerked back, staring at her phone as if a sign had just flashed over the screen calling her poor and ugly.

What?

Her fingers began to fly over the screen, even faster than before -

What? Since when? I didn’t recognise her!

Back in New York, Mara sighed to herself, before going into her pictures; one of her and her cousins a few years ago, and another of Raj… And the girl, Ari realised, she’d seen him with when Sy had taken her to his apartment when she’d landed in New York.

> Nose job, lip fillers, some other shit.

Who is her surgeon?? Ari replied frantically. I didn’t recognise her and I *know* plastic procedures.

Mara shook her head.

> She spent a lot of money on a lot of procedures. Are you going to ask her?

Ari made a face of disgust, again, too preoccupied with Samara’s message to mask it. She didn’t care if Raj saw.

No thank you. And then, after a second thought - I’d rather stick pins in my eyes. She watched curiously as the typing icon appeared, disappeared and then reappeared. Great. Offended?

Finally, she received Samara’s message - and couldn’t help but smile slightly at the crying with laughter and passive-aggressive smile emojis in droves, with no text.

Ari sent the grumpy one back… And, on a whim, wished Samara well soon. She set her phone back down on the table before Samara could reply.

That was enough friendliness for a little while… And anyway. Apparently, they both had more important things to do.

[gawaine]

how much would you all hate me if I said I was considering writing a story to do with Unbroken again

like, very different, but also... another part of the modosphere?

[modosphere]

the end: a dara drabble

I’m so sorry this took so long! I’ve been really iffy about it and the whole broken wrist thing hasn’t helped the drafting process... But here it is.

Enjoy! Give feedback! And more details of the new story (if you’re still interested - let me know!) soon!

Blakes Hotel Kensington, London 2041

Mara was looking for her passport.

She didn’t know where she was going to go, once she found it; but she figured she could stick to what her original plan had been, back when there’d still been a plan (plans. Plans!), no matter how… Depressing. Pathetic. Miserable.

She’d go to a hotel room. She’d get her passport, get it from wherever the idiots who had thought it smart to unpack her suitcase had put it, and then disappear - to another hotel room, far away from this one, and watch the travel channel with room service until she saw somewhere she liked enough to randomly disappear to.

How? What about your husband?

Mara took a deep breath and tried to tell herself that she really didn’t care.

“For fuck’s sake.” Mara muttered, slamming the drawer shut as, once again… No passport.

She took a shaky breath as she stood from where she’d been crouching, looking around the room for any other place it could be, fighting tears. She wouldn’t cry. She couldn’t. She’d become… If she started, she’d never stop and although Mara had absolutely no intentions of ever looking Danyal Zafar in the eye ever again… Unless she hurried, unless she stayed calm and collected and found the goddamned passport, the exact opposite would happen and -

Mara’s hands curled into fists beside her, her nails digging in so hard that she felt as if her knuckles would break through her skin. No. No. She didn’t even want to think about - she couldn’t. She didn’t even know what would happen, what she’d… Do.

She was ready to go, too. That was what was… Frustrating. The moment they’d (they. Yeah, right) been able to leave… He’d disappeared, saying something about Ari, but Mara hadn’t noticed. She’d gotten into the car and started loosening the catches of her jewellery and the pins in her hair; and once she’d reached the hotel room, it had only taken twenty minutes to rip it all off and leave it in a somewhat neat pile on the dresser. He could keep it. She didn’t want it.

She’d not bothered changing; it would have taken too long. So here she was, still in her bridal outfit, sneakers too; but with a leather jacket on to cover the backless blouse and her hair yanked up into a tight ponytail.

She felt ready to leave. She was ready to leave. She just needed her stupid passport!

She didn’t even know who to call and ask; and even then, could she? She and… She wasn’t meant to be leaving for the honeymoon for another few days and even then, she was supposed to be busy… Now. She couldn’t justify a phone call, to anyone, for help - and anyway, after today, who did she have? No-one. She never had. She was on her own.

Maybe you shouldn’t care.

Maybe. But until she had a plan about… Getting out of this mess - until she could think about it with a clear enough head that she didn’t want to scream and screech and rage at the mere thought… She couldn’t think about that.

“Centre yourself.” Mara told herself, avoiding her reflection in the gold-gilt mirror before her. This whole suite made her feel sick. She’d helped him, helped choose it on the basis of - as she’d joked at the time - the interior design was enough for any girl to drop her panties. Another sick joke. The suite screamed sex; it was all red with gold gilt, romantic, with a wall covered with pictures of roses and fresh bouquets in vases. It was… She didn’t understand how she was standing in it, how everything had gone so wrong. And the red was just making her… Angry. More than she already was, if that were even possible.

Taking a deep breath - and blocking out the different shades of red surrounding her -, Mara slowly looked around the room. She’d checked the drawers beside the four poster, the dresser, too… Maybe in one of the cabinets? Or the trunk at the base of the bed? Maybe everything had been shoved in there, but there was a vase on top, it seemed kind of stupid to put it there -

That was when the door opened.

In the few seconds it took between Mara hearing it begin to open, and it closing softly shut a few seconds later, Mara’s head felt… Foggy. Her heart leapt up into her throat and began to thrum, so hard she thought she was going to be sick, and a small part of her could only worry - what if puke gets caught on the embroidery?

She whirled away just before the door shut.

She couldn’t look at him. She wouldn’t.

“Samara-”

Mara felt her fists clench again - harder than before, her nails digging further into her palms. They shook from how hard she was clenching them.

Without turning around, she shook her head - don’t -, and although she wished she could trust herself to say the words, to tell him that it was in his best interests to shut up and leave her alone, she couldn’t. She wouldn’t. She wouldn’t speak; she didn’t know, she didn’t know what would happen if she did, she had to ignore it, she had to get out and think clearly and - and just - get her head around it, understand it all -

She heard Danyal sigh quietly. As if he were stressed. Ha! As if he were struggling to wrap his head around it! What did he have to be stressed about, confused about? He’d known. They all had, they must have, she was the one lost and confused and stuck in some kind of alternate universe -

“Just let me explain, Mara, please-”

Mara. That was what did it.

The tentative wall Mara had built in her head, quickly and carefully around every bad emotion she’d felt since saying those goddamned vows… Burst. The anger, the hatred, the… Disgust, all of it began to flow through her, hard and fast; and so it wasn’t just her hands shaking, oh no, it was her entire body, with a rage that, honestly, she didn’t know what to do with.

Hmm. That was a lie. She did - she just didn’t want to.

She wouldn’t give him the satisfaction of punching him in the face. That would involve touching him.

Within a second, she had a plan - she would grab her phone, shove right past him, snarl at him to not follow her and that they were done, and be on her way. Fuck the passport. She could report it lost; and her phone would be enough for a ticket on the Tube. She’d spend the night going back and forth on different lines all night for all she cared, as long as it wasn’t here, with him, about this. It would be fine.

“I’m done.” She muttered - and, happy with the chain of events she’d just seen happen in her head, went to shove past him, the door in sight. Exit clear.

Except the part that she hadn’t banked on, was Dany grabbing her wrist.

Feeling his fingers close around her wrist - Mara almost yelled, yanking it away and staring at him such hatred, such incredulity, that the door suddenly became forgotten. Was he… Insane? Out of his mind?

What if he forces me to do something else?

Although the thought registered in Mara’s mind, she immediately dismissed it; partly out of her own incredulity but also… Fear. He’d never, she’d instantly replied to herself; but she didn’t know that. She didn’t know him.

Hadn’t everything that had just happened proved that to her?

Samara clenched her jaw tightly shut as the rage resurfaced again, as she fought the urge to scream and throw the stupid vase of roses nearby. She didn’t know him. She was staring at a stranger with someone she’d thought was her friend’s face.

Friends. God, she’d been stupid. She’d actually believed, truly believed, that they were friends.

“D- do you have some sort of - some kind of, a - a death wish?” Mara finally managed to splutter, realising Dany was watching her calmly. Fuck your calmness! “Don’t - don’t touch me ever again, I don’t want to see you ever again-”

“I just want to explain.” Dany said gently - and Mara slowly stretched out her fingers to stop herself breaking them from clenching again. Ex - explain? He wanted to explain? Well, that was alright then, that was fine, so long as His Royal Highness got what he wanted -

And she wanted to say it out loud, that and so much worse, but she couldn’t, she couldn’t, she’d already spoken once and now it was harder to stay quiet but this wasn’t happening. This wasn’t a conversation. The time for talking things through, like a rational fucking person, like the so-called friends that she, like the pathetic emotional reject she was, had been so fucking stupid to think they were and now, now he wanted to talk, no, no, pigs would fucking fly first -

So Mara shook her head, faster and faster, blocking out the noise and focusing on the pounding inside of her head instead as Danyal continued to talk. She squeezed her eyes shut, closed her fists - she wasn’t here, this wasn’t happening, no -

“- just calm down-”

It was the worst snippet she could’ve heard; because, just like that, she realised, with that one sentence… That Danyal didn’t need protecting.

He was an arrogant, smug, audacious bastard - and this time, they had no audience.

There’s nobody to perform for.

Maybe she didn’t know him. Maybe she never had. But he sure as fuck knew her. If he hadn’t, none of… None of it would have happened.

So why was she hiding it?

“Calm down? You - you want me to calm down?” Mara’s felt the vibrations at the back of her throat as her voice began to rise; and as Dany straightened, as if preparing himself, Mara only wanted to shout more. He was preparing himself? For what? She wasn’t the liar here! She wasn’t the master manipulator, a bored little boy, ruining people’s lives! “You are a - a - liar, you are a lying sack of shit, you are a filthy, filthy liar-”

“Mara, please-”

He touched her again - and without thinking, Mara slapped him across the face with every ounce f strength she had.

There was immediately silence, the slap ringing in the air between them and tingling from its force in Mara’s palm.

She didn’t regret it. Not for a second. But it… Surprised her how, as Dany rubbed his jaw slightly, she felt… Guilty.

She had nothing to feel guilty about - except maybe hurting her hand. It felt like pins and needles, she’d hit him so hard, and she’d felt it shoot up her shoulder; there was an angry red mark on his cheek, against his stubble, matching the velvet of his tunic.

She realised then, that Dany was still in his wedding clothes - and, slightly distracted by this new information (what had she been expecting?), Mara’s eyes focused on his scarf, thrown neatly to the side. He must have done it when he’d walked in.

And it… Hit her, seeing him like that. Stubble beginning to line his jaw, the tunic, the smart shoes, the whole… Thing. They were married. Really, truly… Married. It was religiously and legally binding, the were… Actually… Married.

How had this happened?

“I deserved that.” Dany said quietly - but Mara shook her head, trying to focus on her hatred of him in that moment, rather than the confusion and shock of it all that suddenly made her want to cry.

“Don’t you dare, don’t you dare take this away from me too-”

“I’m not trying to-” Dany replied honestly - and that was it, that was it, because now he was being honest? Now? NOW?

“Shut up!” Mara yelled - and this time, she felt no guilt, she didn’t feel anything because she didn’t have time to, as she slapped him again - and again, and again, shoving him and hitting him as hard as she could, on whatever she could reach. She barely caught a glimpse of Dany’s wide eyes - she only saw her hands, batting at his chest and shoulders and arms instead. “Just shut up, shut up, you’re a liar - a liar, a liar, you’re a fucking traitor-”

“Mara-” Dany yelled, grabbing her wrists - and that was when Mara knew, truly knew, she was about to lose it. There was no control left anymore.

Because hadn’t she just told this fucking idiot not to touch her?

Not caring how much it twisted her skin, Mara forced her hands out of his and shoved him away, staggering back slightly from the effort. She couldn’t speak - not because she was incapable, but just because there was so much to fucking say. Where was she meant to start?

We’re married.

That seemed like a good a starting point as any.

“I have had your back since the beginning!” She finally shouted - and this time, when Dany rolled back his shoulders as if on instinct, Mara was glad. She was. It was good that he was getting ready for a fight, because that meant he understood that this was one. “Me! I agreed to help you get that motherfucking pervert back into your life, before I even knew she was one, me, I had your back after everything with Tara and Raj-”

“I know that.” Dany muttered, his jaw clenching slightly.

“Oh, you do?” Mara laughed, once and without humour. “Really? Then tell me, please, fucking well tell me, how you thought, how you seemed to think you know, that treating me like that bitch is okay?!” She screamed the last part; so loudly that her throat hurt, that her shoulders started trembling from the effort. Dany said nothing, training his eyes on the floor. “What, you thought I wouldn’t notice? That you were testing me out there, like she did to you, like you were meant to do to her before your fucked up selves were meant to run off into the sunset and ruin each other’s lives? Not mine?! How dare you test me? After everything I have done, I have tried to help you-”

“When this all started, you stood to benefit too.” His voice was quiet and sure - and it was pissing her off even more.

“At the beginning. Before I learnt how fucked up it all was, and even then, from the beginning, I have done all of the heavy lifting and don’t you dare tell me otherwise.” Mara stepped forwards, pointing between them accusingly. “I could have found anyone to help me, but you needed me. And you think that I, I, should be tested? How dare you?! My life isn’t some - some game-”

“Neither is Divya’s!”

Mara’s eyes widened.

“So that’s why we’re here right now? Because she deserves better?” Her voice was shaking. Her body was shaking. Fuck, her entire sense of reality was shaking and somehow, somehow, Divvy fucking Kapoor remained the one consistent thing! Was her like that much of a joke right now?! “

“No!” It was the first time Dany had raised his voice - and it gave Mara a pang of satisfaction, to see the disgust on his face at the thought. “No, that’s not what I meant-”

“Then why bring it up?”

“None of this should have been a game. None of it should have happened, none of it-”

Mara let out a small screech. Was he that - was he seriously that blind? That actually stupid?

“Then how do you explain,” This was no longer screaming. It was a high-pitched shriek. “If you’re so enlightened, that I just had my nikah read?!”

“I thought it was what you wanted!” Dany yelled - and Mara felt herself just…

Still. Become still.

“Explain that to me.” Mara muttered, her voice almost eerie after being so loud. “Tell me how you can even - how - I… Explain that to me.”

Dany exhaled - and Mara could see it, she could see how he thought… How he thought this was his chance. He actually thought that.

How could one person be… So… Delusional?

Mara waited. She almost wanted to hear the confirmation of his stupidity out loud.

… Except, she couldn’t do that when he wasn’t speaking.

“What are you waiting for exactly? Do you think I have this much time to waste on you?” Mara snapped, as Dany began to pace.

“According to the ceremony we just came from, you have a lifetime.” Dany sniped back.

Words weren’t enough. This time, they didn’t have to be.

Mara grabbed the nearest thing - the vase of roses - and threw, aiming for his head.

It missed, of course. Hand-eye coordination had never been her thing. Mara wasn’t sure whether to be relieved or not; not that she had the time to consider it. Dany had barely flinched as it smashed against the mahogany of the wardrobe beside him - in fact, he’d even looked mildly disinterested -, and Mara’s irritation took over instead.

She just… She wanted a reaction. Something. How dare he be so cool?

“What is wrong with you?” Dany asked - but it sounded too casual to be an actual question. Mara just rolled her eyes. “You - you have to promise to listen-”

“I don’t have to promise you anything.” She interrupted. Dany sighed, leaning against one of the bed’s pillars. “Just say it.”

Dany shook his head slightly - but he seemed to steady himself and this time, Mara knew he’d speak.

In fairness, he thought about how to word it; how to say something so simple, when there was still so much to say. Communicating had never been so… Difficult before.

So he settled on trying to keep it simple.

“You said you couldn’t lose anyone else.” He began carefully - and although he didn’t want to, not yet, he couldn’t help how his eyes immediately met hers… And just like that, he was in a vacuum. “And I… Didn’t want to lose you.”

He’d barely finished when Mara spoke again.

“What are you talking about?”

Dany fought the urge to roll his eyes. The worst part was that he knew she wasn’t even being… Deliberately naive.

And she looked beautiful, even all red from anger. It was… Off-putting.

“I tried to tell you.” He continued, his voice almost warning. “You wouldn’t - you’re so stubborn, you just wouldn’t listen-”

“So this is all of my fault?” Mara snorted - and her voice began to rise again. “This is all of my fault, how, how, for not listening to what-”

Funnily enough, it was that sentence - that one, simple sentence - that made Dany crack the way Mara had wanted him to, earlier. If only she’d known it could be so simple.

“You know what, Samara!” Dany groaned… As every muscle in Mara’s body tensed, without knowing why; and at seeing it, Dany softened. “You… You know why. I thought that it was what you wanted, but you’re so - so stubborn-”

“Go fuck yourself, it’s what I wanted!” Mara’s voice wasn’t just loud now; it was incredulous, genuinely lost, and as the… Fury she’d been holding inside of her lapped away against the tide of utter hopelessness, madness of it all instead, her fingers loosened, allowing her to feel the ache from keeping them curled for so long. “And go fuck yourself with this - these bullshit excuses! Not once did you think about what I wanted, today was about control, pure and simple, because of the number that crazy bitch has done on you-”

“Have you ever stopped to think that maybe it’s a little bit weird, how much you hate Divya?” Dany snapped, pushing himself from the pillar. “That maybe it’s more than just friendly?”

“There’s nothing weird about hating a pedophile.” Mara retorted just as quickly back, her eyes shining with triumph as Dany shook his head, jaw clenched… But fell back into silence. “And anyway - you don’t get to talk to me about friendship.”

Dany looked heavenward for support, unhooking the collar of his tunic.

“And why’s that?” He said, voice dripping with sarcasm.

Mara felt her mouth actually fall open. Was he serious? Actually serious?

And apparently, she’d said that out loud.

“Yes, I’m serious-”

“No, no, you’re not serious, you were never serious about our friendship.” She spat, stepping forwards… But then, something weird happened. Something weird in the form of… Tears.

Hot, sudden tears, too heavy, Mara knew, for her to blink away. Dany saw them, too - and whilst Mara hated herself for them, tried to keep her eyes wide and unblinking as if that would cause them to magically evaporate… Dany’s lips parted, and his eyebrows furrowed slightly, at the sight.

“Did you think I was lying? When I said I hadn’t told anyone… All of the stuff I told you, that I don’t trust people? I told you everything. I meant it when I said you were the one person I trusted and you…” She turned away, trying to get a damned hold of herself, as the tears spilled. She immediately brushed them away.

She didn’t want to say any of it. It was… Pathetic again, weak, stupid. But as stupid and destructive as it was… With every word, Danyal looked more and more grey, sick almost, and selfishly, seeing that was what Mara knew would make her feel better.

“Samara.” She closed her eyes. Stop saying my name like it means something. “Please, listen to me-”

“Why?” Mara groaned, whirling around to face him again. Dany said nothing. Because of course he would! “So you can lie to me again? Again? Stop bullshitting me-”

“I’m - I promise you, I’m not-”

“Your promises don’t mean anything!” Mara shouted - and she cursed as the tears began to fall freely and her face began to crumple. “Don’t you get that? None of what you say matters anymore! You betrayed m - my trust, completely, you used me for your - your sick little game with Divya, like I’m some kind of pawn-”

“No.” Dany shook his head, reaching out to her - but Mara stepped back, shaking her head, trying to hide her tears. “No, Mara, please listen to me-”

“I don’t want to listen to you anymore.” Mara sniffled, angrily swiping away her tears again. Dany stepped forwards again, but Mara too took another step back. “Don’t touch me. Don’t even look in my direction, you - you have no idea, you traitorous piece of shit-”

Three things happened at once.

Firstly, Dany went to touch Mara’s arm, still attempting to explain; secondly, at his touch, Mara tried to pull away; and finally, as she did, Dany yanked her close instead, holding her by the shoulders, inches away from his face.

Mara felt the velvet of his tunic brush against the bare strip of skin between her skirt and her blouse… And she saw him then; the sharp, square cut of his jaw, the high cheekbones, the long, straight nose… The dark brown eyes framed with thick black lashes, the stubble, all as he towered over her in his outfit of red velvet, his expression stern.

He wasn’t the person she’d thought she’d known. In that moment, she saw him, truly, for who he was - who she should have reminded herself he’d always be; Danyal Zafar, future businessman, heir to an empire.

“Listen to me, please, listen-” Dany shook her slightly as she continued to struggle. “No, I don’t know what I’ve done.” Mara’s wriggling slowed slightly as Dany stared down at her seriously, his eyes boring into hers. “But if anything I’ve done, ever, has upset you, then…” Mara’s eyes filled with a fresh set of tears as Dany’s… Glinted slightly, his eyebrows knotting together. “I’m sorry, Mara.”

“Sorry? Don’t know what you’ve done?” Mara repeated, pulling him closer. She had to. She could barely manage her voice above a whisper and he… He needed to hear this. “Dany, you’ve-” She squeezed her eyes shut as her voice began to wobble; as her shoulders began to tremble; as an overwhelming sadness crushed over her, the thing she’d been trying so hard to avoid. “You’ve proved that I’m - I’m-”

Mara’s breath began to stutter with her words, suddenly at a loss for air. She was gulping - sobbing - uncontrollably, the tears flowing freely as she began to shake so hard, that for a few moments, that was all she could do; shake and cry, her face crumpling as she struggled to form words.

Dany swallowed loudly, his arms moving from her shoulders to her waist as she struggled to control herself.

It was another few minutes before she could say it. Even thinking it hurt.

“You’ve proved that I’m alone.” There it was - and now it was out there, it suddenly felt so much more real. Mara began to gasp again, almost hysterical, as she accepted her truth; her parents; her uncle and aunt and cousins; and now her closest friend, all gone. “God, I’m - I’m alone, Danyal, I’m - I’m so - I’m so alone-”

“No.” Dany insisted - and Mara couldn’t look, crying silently now, as Dany pressed his forehead against hers, his thumb against her cheek. “No, you’re not, you’re - I’m here, you’re not alone-”

“I’m alone.” Mara continued, shaking her head - and feebly hitting him again, watching as splashes of tears fell against her jacket. “I am, I am, you ruined it, you ruined all of it-”

“I don’t - how-” He felt helpless. Completely and utterly, as Mara continued to shake, clutching onto him now. “Mara, I’m - I’m still your friend-”

“No, because you’re not mine anymore!” Mara shouted - and as she stared at him with her red-rimmed eyes, pieces of mascara beginning to track down her face, Dany felt his heart drop into his stomach. “Don’t you get that? I’m alone, because you’re something else now-” The hysteria began to worm its way back. “I could have handled it, I was handling it, but I want my friend, Danyal, and you’ve taken away my friend and now I’m - now I’m - now I’m alone-”

Mara’s tears took over her tongue - and Dany could only stand there, guilty and horrified, as her body shook violently against his.

Mara wasn’t sure when she felt her knees go weak under her; or when she found herself sobbing on the floor, Dany’s arm still holding her tightly as he sat them both carefully against the bottom of the bed. She wasn’t even sure of how she ended up between his legs; crying into his chest, his tunic in her tightly curled fists again, her hair undone as he stroked it to comfort her.

She wasn’t sure of any of that. The only thing she knew, surely, was that Dany was there.

. . .

Mara felt sore.

She’d cried, for so long and so hard, that now it felt like there was nothing left. She just felt… Hollow. Hollow and… Cold; from the sweat drying all over her from the uncontrollable shaking as she’d sobbed, mixed with dried tears - and probably some snot - all over her face. In fact, she was even shivering slightly, still curled up against Danyal, avoiding her embarrassment by keeping her face hidden in his neck.

Her whole body… Ached from it all. Across her shoulder blades, in the joints of her fingers from staying curled up for so long - even the sides of her stomach felt sore and her breathing still… Hiccuped slightly,  from the occasional spasms in her chest. Her eyes felt heavy and swollen.

It was uncomfortable to stay sitting like that, too; her neck hurt from being tucked under and her hips were resting at an awkward angle.

And, you know. Dany.

But… Mara had sat there uncomfortably, avoiding… Whatever happened next, for too long.

She just wanted it to be… Over.

So she straightened, despite how her body protested; and she wiped the leftover damp from her face carefully, with the back of her hand and fingertips… Before taking a deep, silent breath and facing Danyal.

“I shouldn’t have done that, I’m sorry.” Mara said evenly, though her voice sounded thick and wet still. She sniffled slightly. Great. She was entering the post-hysterical dribble phrase. Just wonderful. “And now I’m apologising to you of all people, that’s even more fantastic.” She muttered, rolling her eyes.

Dany frowned - and Mara wanted to roll her eyes again, because he looked… Childish again. Innocent. Confused and with his bottom lip jutting out ever so slightly from his concentrating.

Stop it, Mara warned herself. You don’t know that. You don’t know anything about him anymore - or have you already forgotten what he’s done?

No, another voice replied childishly. I remember. He just held me while I leaked out a lifetime’s worth of snot all over his clothes.

Gross.

“You don’t have anything to apologise for.” Dany frowned… Before, unthinkingly, stroking Mara’s hair.

Mara couldn’t help the quick but silent intake of breath at the action; how gentle it was, how confusing that made it, how he leant forwards - bending the legs around her - to stare at her in a way she knew she was meant to find sincere.

But then they were looking at each other and it was about more than sincerity; except, was it? Because although Mara felt like they were having a whole silent conversation, one with their eyes, one that would feel like a mistake or an accident later… Maybe that’s what it really was. Sincerity. With the irony of ironies being that the two of them were silently arguing about Danyal’s sincerity in being sincere.

Dany’s fingers stayed tangled in her hair, as they reached the base of her neck.

She was watching him over her shoulder; and although her neck grumbled, her soreness from her crying not helped, she couldn’t help but freeze as she realised how close they were.

It was… Confusing. She wasn’t unaware; she knew that it would be easy to forget everything that had happened, even just in the room they were in. How it looked from the outside: the two of them sitting together on the floor, her skirt fanned out around her and Dany’s fingers in her hair.

How it would be so easy for them, in that moment, to make everything change again.

And she couldn’t help it; she considered it for a moment, thought about how easy it’d be… Closing the space of a few inches - and how, in doing so, so many things would just become… Simpler. She wouldn’t be so scared, she wouldn’t feel so alone.

It was such an… Awful feeling. It wasn’t a great way of describing things, but it was true; to her, that feeling, like something heavy and murky was pressing down on her head and forcing her to knees… That was loneliness. That was loneliness and it was horrible.

He made it easy, too. He looked enough like the person she knew, but… Different, too. Not so much, not so wholly the person who’d betrayed her; even though that was exactly who he was. But he was handsome and he’d felt so… Strong as she’d cried - not just his body, his warmth and leanness underneath the velvet of his tunic, but comforting. Supportive, the way his arms had wrapped around her and held her tight, helped her contain all of her sadness and stupidity in its own little bottle.

… But Mara also knew her brain was foggy, fuzzy from the pain and betrayal and loneliness; and so although she felt the air change around them - how Dany’s eyebrows furrowed in confusion again, his eyes dropping to her lips, and hers up at his - … Although she felt the two of them hesitate as their eyes met again…

… She also knew it was complete bullshit.

This was all bullshit.

Mara felt the anger come back, though her body felt tired and sick of it, as she realised just how true that was. Their marriage, their friendship, this whole situation; bullshit. Her plans? Before now, after now, currently? Bullshit. Anything that happened after realising this was all bullshit, anything she tried to justify to herself as the right thing to do?

… Bullshit.

She could leave. She could see it in her head; I have to go. Tripping over her skirt, not looking Danyal in the eye, being desperate to leave.

But it was all bullshit, complete bullshit, because where would she go? Who could she tell? Everyone in Dany’s family knew, that much was obvious. And Mara, stupidly thinking she could manage everything and control it all and mastermind the whole operation… Had let them be the only people she’d relied on.

She’d done this to herself. It was all bullshit.

So what was the point of hiding it?

Slowly, Mara rose to her feet, careful to not trip over her skirt.

“I need a shower.” She muttered, grimacing as she removed more snot from her face. Dany furrowed his eyebrows and - although, unbeknownst to Mara, he opened his mouth to speak - chewed his lip, staring at the part of the floor Mara had just vacated.

Dany was almost scared to ask… But he had to.

“You’re not leaving?”

Neither one of them wanted to admit how loaded the question was; and Mara paused, trying not to think about the question too much, her jacket hanging off of her arms.

“And where am I meant to go?” She finally asked tiredly, pulling the rest of the jacket off. Folding it in her arms, Mara looked down at Dany, simply… Tired.

“No.” He said quickly - and there it was again, that little furrow of his eyebrows again, his confusion. “I didn’t mean-”

“I’m staying.” She interrupted. She didn’t want to hear anymore. That’s enough bullshit for one day. “… For now, anyway.” She mumbled. Forcing the cordiality through her teeth, she motioned to the bathroom. “Do you mind if I-”

“No, absolutely not, go ahead.” Dany replied - and although he wanted to tell her he wanted her to feel comfortable, that this was theirs… Somehow, he didn’t think it would be well-received.

That was when it happened. Again. Their eyes meeting.

And then Mara rolled her eyes and walked away.

. . .

After twenty minutes of sitting on the edge of the bath, avoiding her reflection and trying to understand - trying to wrap her head around everything that had just happened, all at once -, Mara heard a knock coming from the suite’s door.

A few seconds later, Dany was knocking on the bathroom one.

It was probably a blessing. Mara had stepped inside without anything - clothes, makeup wipes, a gun to shoot herself in the head with. She needed supplies. Not to mention that it looked like she’d be sleeping in the soon-to-be damp bathtub - because sleeping in what was meant to be Dany and Divya’s marital bed was not something she planned on doing.

“M - Samara,” Mara sighed, loudly, at Dany’s correction. At least he was learning. A shame he hadn’t done it sooner. The shock of it all was gone now - all that was left was hollowness, an emptiness, an exhaustion and a level of disbelief at how real… Well, reality, felt. “There’s a member of staff outside of the door. He’s saying…” Behind the door, Mara’s eyebrows furrowed in confusion as Dany hesitated. “He’s saying your father’s waiting downstairs and is demanding to see you. He says it’s an emergency. The staff are saying they need you to ID him before they call security.”

She should have wanted to cry. She knew that.

Instead, she just felt a really bad headache coming on.

“Do they have a picture?” She called out - before, with a small grimace at how much her shoulders still hurt, pushing herself from the bath and walking over to the door. “I can’t see him like… This.” Just because she hadn’t checked her reflection, didn’t know Mara was unaware of what she looked like - red-faced, puffy-eyed, and probably with mascara running down her face.

“Yes.” Mara heard footsteps - some murmurs of conversation - and then Dany at the door again. “It’s just me, I have it.”

Mara frowned. If she didn’t want to look at her reflection, she didn’t want anybody else to see what she looked like earlier.

God. Just a few hours ago, the last time she’d looked in a mirror, she’d been so… Confident. Ready.

How did everything change so quickly?

Sighing, Mara opened the door.

As it happened, she was puffy-eyed and red-faced; but she just looked warm underneath her blush and, aside from the dried tears on her face, any other traces of rogue makeup had been wiped away too quickly to leave marks on her face.

She just looked… Warm. Warm and sad and tired.

“Holy shit, that’s him.” Mara shook her head, taking the phone in Dany’s hand. “I - I can’t see him like this, I don’t even know what he’s doing here, right now I don’t know if I even care-”

“Then we’ll deal with it in the morning.” Danyal shrugged, taking the phone back.

Mara held onto it, staring at him.

“Not we.”

Dany said nothing - but then again, he didn’t have to.

The pointed, almost awkward look that he gave the wedding bands on Mara’s finger, on the hand still clutching the phone between them… Well, it said it all.

“We’ll deal with it tomorrow.” He repeated quietly, taking the phone.

Mara shut the bathroom door.

… And hours later, when her butt felt sore from sitting on such hard surfaces and her eyes felt heavy from the tears and the promise of a fitful sleep wherein the could hide from her problems… Mara opened it again and silently got her things.

And as much as she wanted to run… She changed into her PJs and, ignoring Danyal’s offers of sleeping on the floor and awkward attempts to appease her, slipped into bed and turned her back to him, her rings glinting in the light feeling like bands around her neck instead.

She’d thought about it. We.

A few hours ago, that was all she’d wanted. But now… The fake promise, the facade of it, was all she had. Everyone thought she really was a Zafar now. That was how they’d treat her. She didn’t really have much else. Really, she didn’t even have that.

Really… Mara wasn’t sure she had anything.

It was odd, to fall asleep with so much less than what she’d woken up with. Not that there’d been much. But her eyes were so swollen, and her body so sore, that soon, she was asleep; dreaming, having nightmares of weddings and laughing tapestries and black holes of the unknown.

[modosphere]

... looks a lot like a tragedy now: a dara drabble

So I know I said this would be the final drabble, but I couldn’t sit on it with so much done, so I shall update the (actual) last one very shortly!

Also... Urgh, I hate myself, because basically, this entire series has made me want to continue a final version/part of the MODosphere, but different to what I wrote before (more Zafar-focused), so if anyone would be interested in that, please let me know! I play myself sometimes, I swear...

Happy reading guys!! I hope you enjoy it :)

The Sunken Gardens, Kensington Palace Kensington, London 2041 1 Day to Go

Dany couldn’t move.

He didn’t… Understand. Not in an angry, frustrated way, but in a genuine, confused sort of way. For the first time in his life, Dany couldn’t… He couldn’t see the bigger picture, he couldn’t recognise the pattern. The way Samara was acting…

A few moments ago, Mara had stood in front of him and spoken and Dany had thought he’d understood what she was talking about. He’d thought they both had. But now that she was gone, he wasn’t so sure. He didn’t know.

All he knew, was that he didn’t want to lose her - and she couldn’t take losing anyone else. Not right now.

… But she hadn’t wanted him to say - whatever it was, that he’d wanted to say.

It didn’t… Make sense. Surely it should have been simpler? That was the most confusing part. Wasn’t this meant to be… Simpler?

His parents made it sound so simple. Like everything had just… Eventually fallen into place, that they’d been able to place their trust in the universe and all else had managed on its own.

Was he wrong? If that wasn’t happening, were these not the feelings he thought they were?

Could he be wrong? After spending so much time… Avoiding it?

“Please tell me you’ve told her.”

Dany closed his eyes in defeat - before turning around to face Ari, who stood before him with her arms crossed over her chest, looking… Less than impressed.

“Ari, listen to me-” Dany began tiredly - but Ari shook her head, and Dany, knowing better than to argue, sighed and waited for the onslaught.

“How much longer can you put it off? You’re meant to be getting married tomorrow. You’ve promised, over and over again, that you’ll tell her-”

“Ari.” Dany tried again. “It’s… Complicated-”

“You’re here! At her mehndi! When you’re not meant to be, have you thought about how everyone’s going to react if they see you? How it’ll look tomorrow, if you ditch her at the altar-”

“If-” Dany repeated incredulously - though he didn’t quite know why. After all, logically speaking, Ari was right. It was still a possibility.

The kiss Mara had given him had felt like enough of a goodbye for it to be true.

Dany’s head hurt.

“Have you thought about what you’re doing? Really thought about it?” Ari continued. She looked very pretty this evening; her hair was tied into a ponytail, being led into by a complicated set of plaits, and she wore an outfit of burnt orange that suited her nicely. “Bhaijaan, you are about to throw away someone who really loves you for someone who-”

Dany’s head jerked up sharply as Ari suddenly stopped.

“Someone who what?” He immediately asked, sounding… Sterner than he’d anticipated. Ari said nothing, chewing on the inside of her lip. It was like he’d been slapped - and Dany remembered Mara’s words in the car, about what Ari thought, about what she really knew. “What were you about to say?”

Realisation crept on him, slowly but surely, as Ari refused to speak.

“You promised me you’d tell her before the ceremony. Even if not for you, or her, don’t break your winning streak of never breaking a promise to me now, please, for God’s sake.” Ari finally muttered - before groaning. “Look, just - go, please, okay? Obviously Raj knows you’re here, but if Pixie sees you and finds out you still haven’t spoken to Samara-”

“I’m going.” Dany mumbled quickly. Ari didn’t need to finish that sentence, and Dany didn’t want her to. “I’ll… I’ll see you at home.”

Ari pulled a face that clearly expressed how dumb a plan she thought that was.

“Get some sleep. Please.” She huffed, squeezing her brother’s arm. “Just… Think about what you’re choosing to do tomorrow. Or not choosing, by not saying anything. Bye.”

Danyal didn’t bother to correct her. In fairness, the part of his brain that was still fairly reasonable, could accept that there wasn’t much to correct.

“Bye.” He managed to mumble - and just like that, within seconds, he was alone again in the dark… Wondering what the Hell he was going to do next.

. . .

Everything else was a blur.

Time didn’t exactly whiz by. In fact, it felt strangely long, like it was being stretched - and it felt like Danyal was being stretched with it, and so was this entire process, but that it was all happening so slowly that only those on the inside could see the gradual change at all.

He was awake when his family arrived, late from the festivities - but, upon hearing their excited chatter and relaxed laughter, knocked back a few sleeping pills to drown them out. As a result, his sleep was deep, but not restful - and even though Danyal felt an exhaustion that ran so much deeper than just one night’s sleep, he accepted his newfound aches, knowing he wouldn’t have slept fitfully anyway.

He was up before sunrise. He heard the sounds of the London traffic outside of his window steadily increase; he saw the sky change hues through the slit of a gap between his heavy navy curtains; he heard the quiet chatter of his parents as they went showered and went downstairs, already preparing for the day.

By the time he’d heard the beginning sounds of Zarina and Kabir getting out of bed, though, something had finally changed.

This wasn’t him. The feelings and the self-doubt and the confusion, like he was some sort of lost little boy. It didn’t matter what Samara said, or Zarina, or Divya, about who he was or what he was. He knew himself. He was Danyal Zafar. He didn’t sit on his ass and panic, he got things done.

So that was what Danyal decided to do, before he’d even gotten out of bed that morning. It didn’t matter that he didn’t know how, or when - but by the end of the day, he vowed to get things done.

*

The Kensington Hotel South Kensington, London The Day of…

Surprisingly, Mara woke up… Refreshed.

It was a weird feeling - to wake up in another plush hotel bed, to hear the distant sounds of the London traffic through the soundproof windows, to feel the sun shining in through the heavy, drawn curtains - another one of many, another reminder of the past few days where she’d woken up with swollen eyes and what had felt like a hole in her chest… But not feel that. Samara awoke relaxed and calm - almost excited, for what the rest of the day would bring.

This was the end of the beginning. This was where the real story started.

Taking a deep breath, and resting her arm somewhere above her head, Mara snuggled under the duvet and closed her eyes, thinking. Anything worth thinking about had to be thought about now. She wouldn’t have time later - and some things… She didn’t want to think about anyway. Once her eyes were open, that was it. The day was beginning.

Don’t, Danyal. Please, don’t, I can’t.

She’d blurted it out, but not because she’d been scared. She hadn’t sounded desperate (or, liked to think so. Her eyebrows furrowed as she considered this). It had just been… Honest. Tired.

Mara wasn’t going to waste any of the day’s precious energy on trying to understand something that would no longer exist (even on the fake-as-fuck plane it currently existed on) by the end of the day. But Mara did feel… Okay, about it.

You’re not not wanted it.

With her eyes still closed, Mara felt the corners of her mouth lift in a small, sad small. It was a naive comment. Nobody wanted her. Mara felt like she’d been kicked around enough in the past week to know that.

… But it was nice for someone whose opinion she trusted, at least when it came to serious things (or anything not involving Divvy Kapoor), to say otherwise.

Samara reluctantly opened her eyes. Divvy Kapoor.

“He knows what he wants.” She murmured to herself, her voice sounding oddly loud, but weirdly… Hidden, too. It sounded bizarre, but in a weird way, it was nice. Like her words were locked in this room, as long as she was only speaking to herself, just in this moment. “You’re helping him.” She hesitated. “You’re helping your friend.” She clarified, frowning slightly at the ceiling.

Mara sighed. Even to herself, she sounded unconvincing.

Then she threw back the covers and got on with her day.

*

The day didn’t just disappear the way the evening before had. Mara was… Present.

Even though everyone had made a great big show of telling her not to go the gym, after rubbing off the dried henna to reveal the dark red patterns underneath, Mara snuck down to the gym; and, after that, headed back to her room… Now transformed.

Her cousins’ outfits were hanging from anywhere they could throughout the room, the makeup artists’ cases strewn in the remaining floor space not already taken by furniture and boxes of shoes and jewellery.

After being rushed into the shower, with instructions and lewd jokes being shouted through the door, Mara was shoved - towels and all - into a chair, as preparations began.

Romantic Asian music played loudly from someone’s wireless speakers, and the room was filled with a cool breeze, wafting away the otherwise overbearing traces of different types of perfumes and makeup. Her aunt was there too, and even though Mara felt her resentment, she wasn’t exposed to it, which made for a nice change… In fact, she wasn’t really exposed to any of it.

Mara sat there, smiling at the relevant jokes, rolling her eyes at the others - but there, at the makeup table with a stoic expression, Mara felt… Separate. She was separate.

Brides always were, of course - but this was more. As much as Mara and the rest of them said it, her cousins weren’t her sisters; and they, really, weren’t her family. They never had been.

Mara felt a heaviness in her chest as she watched the four of them, giggling and joking behind her, in her reflection. They didn’t know, of course. As far as they were concerned, they were all family. They didn’t understand that Mara wasn’t, and never had been and never would be, one of them.

Mara did as she was told and lifted her chin slightly, as the makeup artist applied corrector underneath her eyes. One of Samara’s eyes caught her reflection again, just past the woman’s arm.

You’re not not wanted.

Mara inhaled deeply, fighting a small smile. The heaviness was gone - and although something else began to… Chew at her chest, in that moment, Mara was too adamant to enjoy what she could to think anything of it.

. . .

She looked super hot.

… “Samara!” Her uncle called through the door. Mara’s heart did an odd skip at the sound and, for a split second, all she wanted to do was lock the room and hide - and stay hidden, in this hotel room, until someone she knew, someone she trusted, could come and get her. Someone who made her feel wanted. In that split second, Mara nothing wanted more than to stop everything - everything - and just… Hide and think. “It’s time to go!”

“Coming!” She shouted back - before staring, wide-eyed and terrified, at her reflection one last time. The split second of fear disappeared, and confusion and further fear at even wanting it, took its place instead. She tried to shake it off. The next time she’d be in this room… It would be all over. “Shit. Yes. Okay.”

She was about to enter an art gallery full of important, influential, powerful people… And lie to them. Lie to them about who she was, about being in love with her fiancee, about wanting to get married - and then lie some more, by saying she was heartbroken to not be marrying her fiancee, after his ex stormed the stage, demanding his love and affection.

It was fine. Cool. No problemo.

… Except, it was. Because some of those people in that room, as powerful and important as they were, were also people Mara respected. People she liked. People she didn’t want to lie to, people she would be sad to leave.

You’re not not wanted.

Mara glanced sharply up at her reflection, breathing deeply to try and calm her stuttering pulse. No. No. She had to do this. Of course she did. What other choice was there? Mara dared her reflection to answer. It didn’t.

“Samara!” Her uncle called, knocking again.

Mara exhaled deeply, nodding at herself - before tossing back her head, and calming herself, rearranging her features so that it were as if she were the calmest, serenest person in the world.

But on the inside?

… Shit.

. . .

Everybody was already seated by the time Mara arrived; it was tradition. To have everyone waiting for her, to have everyone watching her big entrance on what was meant to be one of the biggest days of her life.

Mara swallowed, keeping her head down and allowing her uncle to lead her forward through the sea of tables, as she realised something - it was. As much as Samara had never found weddings that interesting, or considered it stupid to place so much importance on one event… That’s what this was.

It was going to be her proudest moment. The moment where she’d have fooled everyone, outsmarted the world…

… And nobody would know about it.

She frowned, trying to focus on holding her skirt slightly so as to not trip. She’d never thought about it like that before. She’d been… Proving something. Letting herself out of a box.

But now, as Mara felt hundreds of pairs of eyes on her as she walked towards the platform where Mara knew Dany, Kabir and their parents were waiting, Mara realised… All of these people would never look at her the same way. They’d pity her. Even if she told, even if she broke the promise she and Dany had made… It wouldn’t matter.

Of course, that didn’t matter either, she reminded herself hastily, as another slow, romantic Bollywood song began to play in the background. It was making her irritable. If the couple in question, at any wedding, needed romantic background music to remind themselves that they were in love (or supposed to be), didn’t that indicate something was a little bit wrong?

None of it mattered. None of it. This wasn’t her life, her wedding, her world. So what if nobody knew? She knew. Danyal knew.

Mara stopped, the force of what she’d just thought punching her in the gut.

Why did it matter if Dany knew?

He’s a good contact, the sensible voice in her head reasoned; the same part that noticed the crowd glancing, seeing her hesitate just before reaching the stage. They all seemed to find it cute, endearing almost. He’s someone whose intelligence you respect. It’s just… Nice to have someone like that’s acknowledgement.

Something felt wrong.

You’re fine. Brush it off. You’re fine, Mara told herself. She glanced up - and caught how Danyal’s parents, noticing her sneakers underneath her skirt, smiled secretively to each other. Mara flushed.

Her eyes wandered. To Kabir, giving her a small thumbs up - Mara smiled, her chest warming at his innocent smile. She was going to miss him - and then finally, Danyal, in all of his wedding finery; an outfit matching her own, at the insistence of Annie upon first seeing Mara’s dress was part of a bridal set. His tunic was of red velvet, with white flowers creeping along it, and beige tapered trousers to match. He even had a matching set of pearls; ones pinned to his tunic, keeping his scarf pinned over his shoulder.

She thought she would’ve laughed; that she’d have to hold back giggles, seeing him so dressed up. She thought he may have worn a turban, as was traditional, like he had at that shambles of an attempted wedding with Divvy - Mara could remember him telling her how it had itched.

You’re no better. This wedding is attempted, isn’t it?

But - anyway - she wasn’t giggling. If she had thought she looked like some sort of badass princess, Dany looked like some sort of… Haughty prince and, with his hair quaffed gently back, Mara had to admit that it… Suited him.

He looked… Scared, though, too - and somehow, that made Mara feel better. She was just nervous, and so was he. That’s all that was happening.

“Samara?” Her uncle asked quietly, glancing at the crowd.

Mara shook her head slightly - before going back to her performance, smiling slightly, being sure to come across shy.

“Sorry, I just - I’m ready now.” She replied, knowing full well everyone was watching her. She could feel their knowing stares, the way they rolled their eyes slightly, as if to say - how cute. Look at how nervous she is.

Mara stepped up onto the stage.

All of a sudden, things got very… Strange. Difficult.

Mara felt her uncle step aside as Dany’s family greeted her; as Kabir stepped forward and gave her a tight squeeze, grinning - and for a moment, Mara was confused, because wasn’t he sad? But no, of course he wasn’t. And she didn’t want Kabir to ever be sad. He was just… Trusting what they’d spoken about before.

Mara squeezed him tightly back, all the same.

Mara hesitated at Danyal’s mother - but, to Mara’s surprise, she simply smiled warmly at her.

“We like the shoes.” She whispered, as she hugged her in welcome. Mara stared at her in surprise when she pulled away. “You look lovely.” Soph told her sincerely - and for a minute, Mara’s eyes welled up with tears and, maybe she was imagining things, but… For a moment, Sophia Zafar’s did too.

But this is his family. Not yours.

Samara glanced over to her seat, on the other side of the stage, as she stepped forwards in front of Danyal’s father; and it hurt, to see it so empty. It was her mother who should have been telling her she looked pretty. It was her father who was meant to be greeting Danyal’s father, all serious and sombre, because it was such a huge moment and anything could go wrong - which was right, it was true. It was all about to go wrong.

“Welcome to the family.” Dany’s Dad grinned; and as he pulled her in for a tight hug, Mara had to squeeze her eyes shut to stop the tears from falling. They’re not your family. She didn’t have a family. She didn’t belong to anyone, there was no-one here, on her side, that weren’t only there because they had to be, out of some fake sense of duty.

Why couldn’t this be her family? How did one person get so lucky, how could someone as stupid and blind as Danyal spit in the face of it, for someone like Divya? He deserved better. His family deserved better. Mara wanted better for them.

“She’s not your family yet.” Mara’s uncle joked, though Mara knew he was being serious. If only he knew. Reluctantly, Mara pulled away from Aman’s embrace - and her breath caught in her throat, as she realised Danyal had seen. He’d seen how tightly she’d held onto his father, how for a moment, her face had crumpled and her lip had begun to tremble.

“Formalities.” Aman muttered, winking in Mara’s direction - and Mara actually laughed, fighting back more tears as she wished that were true.

Mara tried to keep her head down as she walked past Danyal, towards her seat, trying to hide how much it hurt. How it felt like she was saying goodbye. How she was saying goodbye, to good people, kind people, people who had cared for her when nobody else did.

And for what? To get away from people who weren’t like that? But that was the point. People weren’t like the Zafars. The Zafars didn’t exist in the real world, where people were cruel and selfish and vindictive. Mara lived in that world, not theirs. That was all she knew.

But she couldn’t help it - as her uncle led her to her seat, ignoring all pretence of an awkward, formal interaction between bride and groom (though at this point, Dany and Mara had played their roles a little bit too well for anyone to believe that - and it was something they both knew) -, her eyes met Dany’s as she walked by, blinking back her tears before her mascara ran.

She steeled herself in that. He was focused. They had a job to do, a plan to execute. He was right. She had to be focused too.

She sat down, her uncle between them.

Mara took a deep breath, keeping her head bowed and her eyes trained on the hem of her skirt as she tried to calm herself.

She closed her eyes, holding her breath for a minute, as she felt the ripple of movement through the crowd - as the women covered their heads with their scarves and the men bowed theirs, all of their hands clasped in prayer as the imam, the priest, began.

There was a roaring in Mara’s ears. She didn’t want to cry anymore, but her eyes were blurry from all of the unshed tears, and she had to be careful when attempting to blink them away - there were so many the they threatened to spill and she had to be careful with her emotions, especially when they were so close to the end. As the prayer continued, her heart felt more like it was beating in her throat than her chest - but Mara was still sure she could see it, pounding through her blouse, for everyone to see. They could. She could feel it. It felt like she was a cartoon, like something on display in a museum.

But she had to look up.

She had to find Divya.

Slowly, as if her eyes were struggling to even follow the order, her eyes flickered upwards from the floor - and Mara felt confused again, like she was on display and everything else was in a bubble outside of her own, as she saw Pixie and Raj and Ari smiling up at her; Ari with tears in her eyes, Pixie looking proud.

Mara felt her eyebrows furrow. Why did they look so happy? So… Pleased? The plan hadn’t worked yet. Were they thankful? Was that what it was? It had been the look Kabir had given her - had Kabir shared what Mara had said to him the night before? She wasn’t sure if that extended to the others. Kabir was different - younger, more separate from the mess that this entire plan had caused.

Something felt… Wrong. All of it. Somehow, all of it - and as soon as she felt that, Mara felt her heart speed up again (if that were even possible) because this was wrong, all wrong! She was lying to people, good people and she felt as if she were suffocating - her head hurt and her legs were trembling and her hands, clasped in prayer, were resting on her knees to hide how violently they were shaking.

And then she saw Divya in the doorway, by the entrance.

It went away. All of it just… Went away.

The pounding heart, the trembling in her limbs, the way her throat had felt dry and scratchy, her watery eyes. It just… Stopped. Like the clouds had parted.

But there wasn’t any sunshine. Instead, Mara just felt… Empty.

The imam turned to Danyal.

“Do you, Danyal Aman Raja Zafar…”

Mara’s fingers curled slightly.

Any second now. Any second, and it’d be all over.

“I consent.”

Mara closed her eyes, finding them suddenly bone-dry. Here it came…

“Do you, Samara Eliza Kayani…”

Milliseconds felt like eons as the imam turned to her, reciting her list of vows and duties, just as he had to Danyal. Any second now. If Divvy maybe had two brain cells to rub together, maybe she would have realised it would’ve been more sensible to interrupt -

Mara’s breath hitched in her throat.

Wasn’t Divvy meant to interrupt before Dany…?

She glanced up, her eyes immediately finding Divya at the back of the crowd… And Mara felt her heart plummet into her stomach, nausea balling at the back of her throat, as she saw Divvy’s face.

Horrified. Sad. Filled with tears.

Still trying to be subtle, still trying to play her part of the quiet, nervous bride - Mara glanced at Dany from the corner of her eye - and she felt her entire body begin to tremble, ever so slightly, as she noticed how he stared at the ground somewhere by the hem of Mara’s skirt, his jaw slightly clenched with the effort of looking neutral.

What was happening? Why wasn’t - why was Divya crying? Wasn’t Dany meant to… Signal her? Mara knew everything had been going to plan. Mara had overheard Tabby mentioning how cute it was, that Divya had visited Danyal before the ceremony. How sweet it was, that her family and Dany’s were so close.

“Samara?” Her uncle said gently.

Samara started slightly, staring at him with wide eyes. Danyal’s mother looked slightly confused, and the room was staring at her, watching, waiting for baited breath - because she was the bride. It was her turn to say she consented. To get married.

They all thought she was nervous.

Mara opened her mouth to speak, but her mouth was dry and she wasn’t sure words could come out if she wanted them to. She turned slightly - to the rest of the hall, to her friends - Dany’s friends, his friends and family, Raj and Pixie and Ari - but they… They all looked fine, they all looked happy, encouraging almost.

What was happening? Didn’t they realise? They knew the plan. They knew what was meant to be happening, what wasn’t - why wasn’t anyone doing anything? Why couldn’t they see something was wrong? Divya was meant to be saying something! Why wasn’t anyone confused, or stressed, or surprised like she was - why weren’t they doing anything, when everything was going wrong?!

“Samara.” Her uncle murmured, a playful expression on his face that Samara immediately knew was for the rest of the crowd. She tried to tune them out. To focus on him instead, on his concern. But her mind was going a million miles per minute and she - she just - she couldn’t focus. She had something to do. She was meant to be doing something - something else - acting aghast, horrified, heartbroken even, as Divvy executed the plan she and Danyal had had all along -

But now she didn’t have to act.

Because she really didn’t know what to do next.

“Samara, the imam asked you if you consent.” Her uncle pushed. He placed his hand on her wrist - and Mara winced, almost jumped, because it felt like a handcuff, not a hand. Even if it was all in her head… That was what it felt like. “Do you?”

She was back in Pakistan.

In Islamabad, back in her and Danyal’s old office - arguing, struggling to even talk to each other without frustration pouring out, Mara - Mara’s hands curled into fists - Mara being scared of this very thing happening - but that wasn’t the memory sticking out.

Are you worried you're going to have to marry me out of pity?

No, of course not!

Mara looked at him again, but not confused this time. Beseeching. What was happening? Why didn’t she understand, why wasn’t she being allowed to understand?!

They were friends. They were meant to have, at least once, been friends - why was he hiding things from her? Why wasn’t she prepared?!

… And then he looked at her.

Everything stopped. It was like something… Something out a movie, as stupid as it sounded. But that’s what it felt like. Everything, despite already being quiet, fell silent; everyone else fell away, and it was just them, the two of them, looking at each other with their fathers between them.

That was when she realised it wasn’t a mistake.

What had he said? About the ultimatum he’d give Divya? About how she needed to stand up in front of everyone and admit to her feelings, like she’d wanted him, like she’d tried to force him to do? How he’d seemed bitter and angry and Mara had been shocked, because that wasn’t how he was with his precious Divya, oh no, she could usually do no wrong -

He was doing it to her.

He was making her choose.

No. No. This was not a part of their plan. Mara nails dug into her palms, so hard it felt as if her knuckles would burst out of the skin - but she couldn’t feel it.

He wasn’t doing this. He was not allowed to do this!

Dany’s expression gave nothing away - he just watched her, just once, for a few seconds - but it was too careful. It wasn’t real, that wasn’t him being real. There was something - something wrong…

He knew. He had to know. Right?

Or was he just confused? Just like she was? Dany went into neutral mode, robot mode - but this was more than that, usually she could see that, usually she could understand that -

What if it was more?

You’re not not wanted.

No. No, no, NO. That wasn’t a good enough reason. Not even to herself, not even in that moment, in her own head. That wasn’t a good enough reason! They’d had a plan. No matter what, no matter what else happened and whatever else she had been forced to get her head around, they’d had a plan.

No. The answer was no. No!

“Samara-”

No. Absolutely not. This wasn’t her mess. She’d said it from the beginning, she - this was Dany’s mess, his problem to fix, not hers. She’d played her part. She’d performed her role. Enough was enough!

… But she felt like she was falling down the rabbit-hole and zooming in, closer and closer, to wonderland. Everything else was a bubble. Everyone else was in a bubble, cartoons, in bright colours and happy, encouraging smiles and she was going to be sick. She was going to be sick. She was going to puke, just throw out the words and it would be chaos, but she had to, what choice did she have - but she could feel them, Dany's family, his friends, her friends, Danyal, Dany, her family, everyone in that room -

No. No.

I don’t consent.

“I consent.” Mara’s eyes widened - horrified, terrified, totally lost - as her mouth continued to move, to say words like she wanted them to, except something crucial was missing. “I consent, I - I consent.”

It was like she was stuck. Stuck as everything moved around her in a weird slow-motion that felt sped up at the same time, shapes and sounds around her, as she sat there, unable to move, unable to think, unable to breathe - as everyone around her breathed a collective sigh of relief, and they moved, the silence broken now the vows had been said.

She couldn’t move. She wasn’t there anymore.

What had she just done?

She had to tell them - had to stop them - tell them it was all a mistake, she didn’t consent, she didn’t consent -

You’re married to him now, a cruel, smug voice coming from her own head, told her. What can you do? You’re married to him.

Slowly, forcing the movement of every inch, her chest gently heaving, Mara turned to look at the rest of the stage.

She felt a hand on arm - and just like that, there was noise again. Noise and people - music in the background - the chatter of the room - Aman Zafar’s hand on her arm as he smiled down at her.

“I’m sorry.” Mara managed to say - or, she thought she was saying it, but she couldn’t be sure. Her words weren’t coming out right. It sounded like she was shouting, but really, she wasn’t sure if it came out even as a whisper. “I - I’m sorry-” I’m sorry, I’m so sorry, but there's been a mistake, this is all a mistake, I’m sorry -

“It’s absolutely fine. We’re not that old, that we can't remember how scary it all is.” Aman smiled - and Mara wanted to yank her arm away, tell him no, no, listen - but then his wife was beside him, the woman Mara had always wanted to be, and she was smiling, nodding, happy even.

“Welcome to the family.” Soph told her sincerely - before gently taking hold of Mara’s face and gently pressing a kiss to her forehead.

Mara’s eyes closed as she fought back tears - this time not the sad, still manageable ones of before, but large, loud tears that got caught in the back of her still-dry throat, hysterical tears that Mara had to squeeze her lips together for to avoid letting out a scream.

“Officially.” Aman grinned at her uncle - and Mara could only nod and force a smile, one that took all of her strength to conjure, as Soph looked at her; her face questioning, questioning and kind - and there was more kindness there, in this woman's face, this woman who had been suspicious of her all along, her hero, than her own family had ever shown her in years.

Mara moved aside as her uncle and Aman Zafar shook hands, moving to sit beside one another. She clutched onto her skirt, wrinkling it, but she didn't care, she didn't care about the beads pressing into her palm, she didn’t care -

She turned - and there stood Danyal.

She didn’t know what to say. She didn’t know how. She didn’t know what she even wanted to.

“S- Samara-” Dany tried to begin resolutely… But he stopped, as Mara blinked.

Just once. But it was so… Defeated.

Mara watched as Dany’s neutral expression fell away, as it became something else. Something… Surprised, something sad.

She didn’t care. She didn’t care one fucking bit.

They sat down - next to each other now, their legs brushing slightly until Mara moved hers away. Opposite them, she could see the rest of them - Pixie and Raj and Ari, Kabir with them now too, looking happy, looking pleased.

How could they? How dare they? How dare they be so… Callous, so audacious, to watch and smile? And laugh? Like it was a game they’d all win?

That was what they’d done. Reduced her life to a game.

Mara hid her hands in her lap as the evening continued, her nails dug into the flesh of her palm the entire time.

She focused on that. On the ache in her fingers, on the tension in her knuckles, of her arm shaking from the strength she couldn’t keep up for much longer.

But she did.

She had to.

Prince and Princess, that smug voice mocked. It didn’t even surprise Mara to think it sounded like her mother.

In an odd way, it helped. Mara sat there, perfectly still, perfectly perfect. Like a puppet on a string.

Like the perfect little doll she’d been pretending to be all of this time.

[modosphere]

and the story of us...: a dara drabble

The third (and penultimate) of the Dara wedding drabbles! Apologies for the delay, but I really didn’t want to cut this up further and I wanted to do it justice... Hopefully the ending will make up for it :)

Let me know what you think! Remember, I’m like Tinkerbell. I need applause to live. 

- hen_bee xo

PS. riddled with errors, as I didn’t have time to proof read. I’m sorry!!

Dorothy & Michael Hintze Sculpture Gallery The Victoria & Albert Museum, London 2041 3 Days to Go

“You’re late.”

“I broke my phone.” Danyal murmured, shrugging on his blazer. If he noticed the outrage on Mara’s face, he didn’t show it… And as Mara continued to stare at him, she realised he wasn’t going to.

“And it didn’t occur to you to use any other device to let me know-”

“I’m here now.” Dany interrupted - and although he glanced up at her, it was only for a second, and paired with a brief, polite smile that let Mara know the conversation was over… If it had ever been one. “Shouldn’t we be outside?”

Before Mara had even opened her mouth to respond, Dany was already gone; through the smart, black double doors of the gallery, and beyond; into the square surrounded by beautiful, red-brick buildings with arches and carvings, the gallery pool in the middle.

The garden had been transformed for this; their registration-party-cum-brunch, the event marking the beginning of their wedding week. All of Danyal’s parents’ important business associates were in attendance and, as Mara had been reminded a million times (deliberately and not), acted as an introduction for Dany into the business life. He would start working with his father soon and, well, the Zafars’ business was a family affair, in every sense - and every one of the guests present were being reminded of that, notified of Danyal and Samara Zafar’s arrival onto the scene.

Samara Zafar. Mara’s stomach curled, nausea twisting and slithering its way up her throat in disgust.

Dany’s stag had overrun. He had been due to leave Vegas two days ago, at leisure, without cause for stress - and instead, for some dumbass reason or another, hadn’t left until the late hours of last night. Mara had been making excuses for him all morning - when she hadn’t even been given the courtesy of being told by Danyal what was going on in the first place.

“Dany-” Mara called out quietly - and though there was no way he couldn’t have heard her, he walked on, as if she’d never spoken.

Mara stood as still as she could for a moment, centring herself. She held her breath in her throat and, pretending she was looking idly at the pleasant scene before her, complete with classical music and the tinkling of glasses and polite conversation, rooted herself to the tiny spots on the floor where her heels connected to the ground.

That was the first time she and Danyal had spoken since… Everything. Since before he’d even left Pakistan.

Mara felt stupid for expecting anything different, for thinking he’d do anything but look right through her - and it hit her, then, that as much as she thought she’d accepted it, maybe she hadn’t. Maybe Danyal had heard her message and just… Not really cared.

She felt hollow.

Three more days and he won’t be allowed to make you feel like this anymore, Mara tried to tell herself.

Except feeling it wasn’t the problem. It was the fact Danyal had somehow snatched that opportunity from her in the first place, under the guise of friendship.

But so what? Right now, Mara had a role to play - and she was in too deep to back out now, and they both knew it.

So with a subtle shrug of her shoulders, Mara made sure her pleasantly neutral mask was fixed - and went back out to the crowd guests.

. . .

It was suffocating.

She felt like she was living in a dream; as time wore on, everything felt cartoonish. The smiles of the guests, the forced laughs, the… Excess of it all. The walls of the museum, enclosing the garden, felt like a wall - not to keep them in, but to keep everyone out, and Mara wondered whether, if people who wondered what kind of people hired a museum garden and gallery, who wore fancy designer clothes at brunches, would actually be able to stomach it at all.

Mara had never thought about it like that before. But she couldn’t unsee it - and now, she felt… Glad, to know that she wouldn’t be exposed to it for much longer. In fact, as Mara continued to talk so another faceless banker and her wife about honeymoon destinations and the stock exchange, Mara felt a surge of… Disgust at those around her.

It was a blessing, really. She just wanted to be… Away. And it was good to remember that, remember why she’d come up with this (admittedly) stupid plan in the first place - to find a way to be free. Because - and it as a whole concept, as a fully-formed sentence in her mind - hit her like a ton of bricks; this was her mother’s world. Maddie Kay’s world, filled with fake people and lies and clouds of perfume.

And yes, Mara didn’t think the Zafars were like that. But they were the exception, the strange exception, to an overwhelming rule; and they still belonged in this world. It was theirs, truly theirs, moulded how they wanted and that was… Too much, Mara realised. It was too uncomfortable, to know one family could do so much.

As Mara watched Dany from across the garden, speaking quietly in the corner with his father… She realised that he didn’t even know. Danyal Zafar existed in a world totally separate to 99.9% of the population, and Mara was on the other side of that fence. Her uncle wasn’t in this league. And even if he was close to it, Mara was his… Charity.

Maybe… Maybe if things were different. Maybe if they were both away from this all, things would be easier - Mara bit back a small smirk -, maybe they’d be doing as Dany’s family wanted, maybe they’d fall in love and everything would fall into place. But they wouldn’t. They… Couldn’t. Even when they were standing side by side, like they had been back inside the gallery, Mara realised that the hollowness she’d felt was a world still standing between them.

Mara felt a pang of satisfaction, though, as a small voice reminded her - Divya doesn’t belong here either.

A pang of satisfaction immediately followed by a fresh surge of resentment and then… Surprisingly… Hurt. Because Divvy Kapoor, a girl whose mere name had Mara instinctively rolling her eyes, that was who she was losing to -

Mara blinked, her mask slipping for a moment. Losing to? Losing what, exactly…?

She was tired. She was losing her goddamn mind. And so she made her excuses and, pretending to continue to talk to those on the peripherals of the red-bricked square, made her way to the doors; before slipping into one of the double doors leading back into the gallery.

Mara felt an overwhelming urge to run as she did - but, giving one of the wait-staff a quick, polite smile as they made eye-contact through the glass, Mara figured it wasn’t exactly subtle. She needed a breather. She wasn’t going to get that if the entire garden thought she was getting cold feet.

There it was again - that surge of… Negativity, the overwhelming feeling of being trapped.

Mara took a deep breath - before looking at her surroundings. The chequered floor, the beautiful mix of sculptures, the well-lit museum shop, filled with books on design and art and fashion, tucked away at the top of the small set of stairs in the corner.

There are worse places to be trapped, she reasoned.

Glancing out to the party again, Mara realised that the tents acting as a stock for the canapés and drinks obscured some of the gallery from view - and, with a quick sigh of relief, Mara quickly moved further down the gallery… Until the tents were all but obscuring her from view.

Sighing in relief, Mara leant back and closed her eyes, her bare shoulders brushing the pillar behind her.

She enjoyed that solitude for a few moments. The sudden quiet of the gallery, the peace of only seeing the darkness of her eyelids.

When she finally opened her eyes, looking straight ahead, Mara found herself raising her eyebrows at the sculpture in front of her.

Well, if it could be called that. It was more like some sort of… Carving, but clearly more than that, set up on the wall above a fake fireplace. On the edges, crowds of people watched, aghast, at the figures in the middle; a naked couple, kissing passionately.

Intrigued, Mara pulled her earphones and phone out of her pocket (which she’d had the good sense to keep on her) and slowly walked over, already drowning out the sound of her heels by the time she had reached it.

The first song to start playing had immediately been loud and upbeat - and, irritated at the disruption, Mara quickly chose another song from her playlist; slow, based on the piano and a duet.

She looked back up at the sculpture, before glancing over at the plaque beside it.

‘Harry Bates - 1850-99 War 1887’

She didn’t bother reading anymore. Although it wasn’t exactly cool to admit at dance practice or during business classes, Mara loved art. She loved the subjectivity of it, how you could feel the raw emotion put into something real that you could see and touch and still feel. An annoying plaque telling her about technique or historical context just ruined the initial magic.

They were both barefoot, the couple - and hopelessly entwined, almost desperately so, in a way that had Mara tilting her head and feeling slightly… Sad. One of his hands cupped her neck, the other under her arm, keeping her twisted to face him; and as one of her hands motioned for the crowd behind them to go away, to be ignored, the other clutched onto the arm holding his neck, keeping them locked together.

There was something… Brutal about it. Desperate. Angry.

I hate you, I love you, I hate that I want you, you want her, you need her, but I’ll never be her…

Mara flinched slightly at the song in her ears - and she quickly blinked away the embarrassing tears that suddenly threatened to spill down her face for no reason, as Mara realised that she was… Jealous of the woman in the sculpture. A figment of someone’s imagination. Someone not even real.

But the woman in the sculpture was wanted. It didn’t matter about the crowds jeering, how she was motioning for them to keep away - because there was also something nonchalant about it, like she didn’t care, because she was too caught up in that kiss. Because that man was her anchor, and she was his, and they were constant and Mara didn’t have anyone, not anyone, in her life who felt like that to her. Or, who felt that… Right.

And yes, her daddy issues were not the same as the issues of the couple in the sculpture in front of her, but it was… Resonating, somehow. Changing the song, Mara stepped closer, looking up at the couple; and it was truly beautiful, the detail - she could feel it, feel how much they needed each other, how it was about survival and love and feeling the need to be safe, more than two naked people engulfed in lust.

It couldn’t have been more than a few seconds - but to Mara, it felt like hours, and she stared so long and so hard at it, something aching inside of her at the scene before her, that by the time she turned away, it felt like if she hadn’t, she’d have burned.

Mara swayed slightly as soul began to play in her ears, and she looked at the two options before her - the part of the gallery she’d already glimpsed, by the doors, or this other side - slightly darker from the tents covering the window and with less traffic. When she’d stood with Dany she’d caught busts and marble casket coverings, as well as large, impressive sculptures of struggling men and beautiful women… But looking to the other side, Mara felt her eyebrows raise at the fewer, scattered sculptures in front of her… Including a naked male torso, caught in the corner of Mara’s vision.

Intrigued, Mara walked over.

She smirked to herself once it was in front of her. It was a torso, a very nice, male torso, lacking a head and forearms and cutting off suggestively a few centimetres down from the top of the thighs - just enough to see the beginning of an, erm, important anatomical feature.

The torso was lean, and muscular, and ripped in a way that boasted a six pack of abs without being vulgar; and as Mara’s fingertips traced the bumps on the severed neck, along the shoulders and down the bicep (there weren’t any signs saying she couldn’t), and Mara genuinely applauded the smoothness of the stone (yes, just that! Artistic appreciation!), she couldn’t help but find it… Familiar.

It hit her, as her fingertips reached the jagged edge of where the arm cut off - it was familiar.

The morning after the night they’d spent at Sean’s party at the water-park; when they’d woken up, half asleep, in Samara’s bath-tub with her uncle knocking at the door. Once Mara had managed to convince him everything was fine - and there definitely wasn’t a boy, let alone the likes of Danyal Zafar, in her room -, Mara, too lazy to do much else, had turned on the taps despite where they still sat. Mara had still been wearing a neon bikini underneath her denim shorts and the baggy white tank top; so she’d sleepily fumbled out of them. Dany, on the other hand, had still been fully dressed - and, dozing until it was too late, had stayed that way in resignation. His white T-shirt had clung to his chest, sticking to the hollows that seemed to follow… A very similar outline to the chest Mara was currently looking at.

Of course, she’d pretended she hadn’t noticed. To him, or to herself.

Her fingers curling slightly in… Discomfort at the thought, Mara pulled her fingers back. Before she could help it (and as much as she didn’t want to see it), a flurry of mental images launched themselves into her mind. Confusing mental images, ones she didn’t want to see.

Ones that made her feel sick. Ones of Divvy caressing Dany’s naked chest - and then of the two of them, entwined back in New York, Dany falling in love while Divvy screwed with his mind… Amongst other things.

Mara glanced around, her eyes desperately looking for something else to focus on. She didn’t have to look for long; because slightly further down, near to the sweeping staircase at the bottom gallery, was another sculpture.

“Someone was feeling frustrated.” Mara muttered to herself, smirking slightly - before walking over.

It was a butt, a nice butt, and seemingly a woman’s butt, judging by the curves of the rest of her body. Like the previous one, it was headless, and only showed a small part of one arm; but it was less… Raw than the other. More seamless, more perfect.

It was one of the larger sculptures and, unlike the other, left little to the imagination - it showed from midway down the thighs, and everything that included, up to the neck. Mara smirked slightly as she saw the male torso, its muscled back and the beginning of a very cute butt of its own, now facing her - before shaking her head and glancing up at the other. Mara was genuinely impressed. The curves were so smooth.

The model must have also been super hot.

… Both of them.

But her smirk faded as she began to appreciate the art for what it was; for the adoration she could feel behind it, the love she could feel for this woman from the sculptor, even if just her body.

This time, she wasn’t sad, or overwhelmed by it. She liked it. This sculptor probably hadn’t even loved the model in that way. Maybe there hadn’t been a model at all. But the magic had worked, the lie had worked, and in a weird kind of way, Mara took comfort from everyone’s lies feeling like a universal truth.

That was how Dany found her. Looking pensively up at the sculpture, a small smirk playing on her lips and her hips swaying slightly as she listened to music from her old-fashioned wired earphones.

Dany hadn’t wanted to look at her.

Vegas had meant blissful ignorance; Vegas had meant peace of mind in the form of distraction; Vegas had included millions of excuses to not face it all, including Danyal’s phone being lost during a nasty paint-balling accident. And yes, he could have called anyway - through a million different channels. But he hadn’t wanted to.

He’d thought that the two of them not speaking would provide him with clarity. Less worrying about her feelings, less taking on responsibilities that weren’t his.

But as each day had gone on without hearing from Samara, without any further bids from her to contact him… Dany had found it… Harder. And all of a sudden, as he watched her look up at the sculpture - looking… Beautiful in the muted daylight of the gallery -, Dany realised it wasn’t Mara who was the problem. It wasn’t her emotions that were forcing him to feel guilty.

He was doing that all on his own.

He hadn’t wanted to see her when he’d walked in, late. He’d wanted her to be angry at him, to ignore him, because, Dany realised, deep down he knew he couldn’t ignore her on his own. But the moment his plan had worked… Dany had found himself at a loss, seeking her out in the crowd at every opportunity.

Maybe he was just starved of female attention, after Vegas. Maybe…

When he’d seen her in the gallery, quickly slipping out of sight of the windows and behind the tents, Dany had found his feet moving before he could stop himself. He wanted to talk to her. Be around her.

It’s what you’re used to. That’s all, Dany tried to tell himself - but even privately, it didn’t sound convincing.

Although it couldn’t have been more than a few seconds, to Dany, it felt like longer, and, enjoying Mara’s obliviousness at her audience, he enjoyed the view. She really did look beautiful - and even to Dany, it was shocking, to hear the… Sincerity, in his own thoughts.

Mara was in a white, tapered jumpsuit that, aside from the off-shoulder detail and knot-type pattern on the front, was plain white and lacked sleeves. Her dark hair fell past her bare shoulders in loose waves and to a layman, her face looked almost natural - but Dany knew her eyebrows didn’t really look that dark, and that her lips - her mouth, a small part of Dany’s brain fell to the gutter again - weren’t such a dark, neutral pink. In silver strappy heels, showing black nails on display, she was practically the same height as Dany.

I want to kiss her, Dany thought suddenly - and he swallowed loudly, his eyes widening, as he heard it inside of his head. I want her to want me to kiss her.

That was when Mara’s eyes met his own.

For a second, Dany actually felt… Terrified, because, for a moment, it was like she’d read his mind.

But then it was gone, and she couldn’t have, and the quickly neutral expression only confirmed it - because Dany knew Mara too well by now to think that expression was truly neutral.

“We should be outside.” Dany suddenly blurted.

… What?

Mara wrinkled her eyebrows in confusion, before yanking one of the earphones away. Even from the distance between them, Dany could hear a distant rhythm.

“I’m sorry?”

“We should be outside.” Dany repeated, swallowing and deciding to stick to his convictions - even if they were completely random and stupid. Mara shook her head slightly - why?

Dany simply stared blankly at her.

“I’m looking at the art.” Mara finally said simply, rolling her eyes slightly as she turned away from him - and paused, before walking over to a small sculpture in the corner.

Dany walked forwards slightly to take a look, still a fair distance away; but his eyes immediately zoned in on how Mara seemed to stiffen as she reached it - a small, nondescript sculpture of what looked like a mother and her baby, the mother holding the baby close.

Dany watched, confused, as Mara’s eyes seemed to… Glisten, for a moment - but then she was turning angrily on her heel and about to walk straight past him, her eyes trained on the ground - and it was at that moment that, again, on impulse when impulse wasn’t something Dany really understood, he grabbed her wrist before she could.

“Let go of me.”

Dany frowned. “What’s wr-”

“I said let go.” Mara hissed - but Dany didn’t. He didn’t and, even though his grip wasn’t very tight - it was gentle and loose and easily broken - Mara glared up at him, unmoving, his fingertips grazing against the inside of her wrist.

What happened next was… Odd. For both of them.

It was… It was something neither one of them had felt before or, if they had, it was the first time they knew it. They were pulled towards one another and even though there was an entire gap of space between them, it felt as if they were only millimetres away - and although Mara’s wrist writhed, it was all an act, and, unable to help himself, Dany’s fingers only tightened; but his grip was still soft, as were his eyes, as the two stared at each other.

Something… Unnameable flickered across Danyal’s expression.

Mara tried to hide her fear.

Quickly, in the hopes it would be too quick for Danyal to notice, her eyes dropped to her wrist; and then to her surroundings, for something else to look at other than Dany’s dark eyes and thick, black eyelashes.

So her eyes followed the chequered floor to the wall; and then up the wall, to the nearest piece of artwork she could find… The couple. The couple twisted towards one another, their limbs entwined.

She felt like a statue. Like one of the pieces of art on display.

You’re that vulnerable, a horrified voice inside of her head told her. She thought of the naked busts behind her, too, the ones she’d admired. You made yourself that vulnerable with one phone call and it’s all your own fault.

How could she blame her parents for not wanting her? For not wanting to even give her a chance? Every time she thought she had a situation under control… She screwed up.

Mara began to feel that familiar tingle in the tip of her nose, felt the slow build of pressure behind her eyelids. No. She would not cry in front of him. She would not give him the satisfaction of appearing… Weak. Desperate for attention, like every other girl who threw themselves at him. That’s probably what he thought. That the phone call had been some lame attempt to - to -…

Because he didn’t see them as friends. Dany had made that abundantly clear before leaving for Vegas. She was just… A means to an end, a cog in his grand machine to own the entire world and everything in it, to put everything in his perfect little bubble of life - a perfect bubble Mara didn’t belong in because she wasn’t perfect, she was some sort of defect in that little world, broken and messy and wrong whereas Divvy Kapoor got a pass because she’d been the first inside his pants.

… And just as Mara’s face began to redden slightly from anger, mixed in with other feelings that were too tangled for her to try and understand, Dany swallowed loudly.

Mara in heels meant that her mouth was… Closer, than usual.

I want her to want me to kiss her. That’s what he’d thought. Was that wrong? Was that just him being… Danyal Zafar, in the way everyone expected him to be? Dany didn’t know. He’d never had to before.

“We should be outside.” Mara finally murmured, after what felt like a lifetime - and as she gently pulled her wrist away, Dany opened his mouth to speak, only to find that he didn’t have the words.

He had no choice but to let her go.

Danyal almost cursed out loud as he felt that horrible knot in his stomach and chest again as he watched her go; and it stopped him from speaking, from forming coherent thoughts, even as he saw Mara hesitate by the doors… Before squaring her shoulders, and walking out without a second glance.

For a moment, Dany just stood there. Completely gormless, just… Standing there, not sure what to do or say or think.

He slowly turned, sighing to himself - before pausing, upon his eyes falling on a sculpture on the wall.

A couple, kissing amidst a crowd.

Dany rolled his eyes slightly - before following Mara back to the crowd.

. . .

The rest of the day passed Mara in a blur.

She just wanted it to be over. She wanted it all to be over - this stupid facade, the lies, the ones she told herself. That Dany was her friend. That somehow, they’d become close enough for him to really care about how she was.

At least, she kept trying to tell herself that. Over and over; as she sat in her brightly coloured finery, her makeup as suitably black as her mood; as she glumly placed her chin on her knees between forced, polite smiles at all of the guests who were important enough to be a part of the wedding, but not really important enough to gain an invite to the main event; as she and Danyal managed to play the perfect, in love couple from across the room without looking at each other at all.

*

The Ham Yard Hotel SoHo, London 2 Days to Go

Mara grit her teeth, using all of her strength to pull herself upwards towards her knees - and then again, as the beat of an old techno-pop song played obnoxiously loudly in her ears.

She kept going, not caring how she’d wince and grunt with each push. Sweat trickled from the base of her thick hair, down her neck and past her collar bone, into the valley in her sports bra. She was red and sweaty and out of breath; but still, she kept moving, even as her body ached.

Good. She wanted it to ache; to make her wince every time she moved by tomorrow. She wanted to be so sore that it was all she could think about - that the days after the wedding would no longer be related to this whole, stupid charade, but just be another random day that just so happened to mean her muscles would stop working… And she wouldn’t be around the Zafars any longer.

One of them in particular.

Scowling at her reflection, seen between her legs with each push-up, Mara scowled.

Today was her day off; no more couple-y bullshit, for at least another twelve hours… Because Danyal had a fancy dinner with his friends this evening - his Oxford friends, the oh-so-important and busy ones that hadn’t made it out to his stag. A Goodbye Dany dinner, Raj had called it.

Mara rolled her eyes, hissing, as she completed another push-up.

Technically, she too was having some sort of… Event. Honestly, it was becoming… Suffocating. Ari was being so nice and even if she’d explained why, it made Mara feel uncomfortable.

They’d done so much… Nice stuff. Cool stuff. Stuff Mara enjoyed. Baking classes at Cordon Bleu, movie nights at rooftop cinemas that came with gourmet meals, late-night exhibitions. Pixie had managed to get them backstage tickets to the Royal Ballet, the one type of dance Mara had always wished she could master but had never had the guts to try. It had been great. A secret tour of London at night, a retro-themed party atop a capsule on the London Eye, in homage to Mara’s love of all things vintage.

It was suffocating.

Whether Ari was grateful or not about Mara helping her brother, it was too much. Too much. In a few days, Mara was going to walk away from Ari and her entire family and, according to Dany, never to be seen or spoken to again. How was Mara meant to pay them back?

Of course, Ari’s argument was probably that it was all a gift. But Mara had never exactly been around giving people - and so it just felt like a debt, hanging over her head.

Mara was just shaking her head at the amount of money she probably owed the Zafars - the use of their jet, their trip to Monte Carlo, Ari’s lavish bridal party - when she paused, puzzled, to find a pair of expensive blue Nikes between her black workout ones.

Mara jerked her head back in surprise as, following the trainers - ones she recognised -, Ari yanked out her earphones.

“We’ve been looking everywhere for you!” Ari huffed - before, much to Mara’s confusion, she proceeded to hoist Mara up from the floor. Too stunned to do anything else, Mara automatically steeled her legs to take some off some of her weight.

“It’s not even six in the morning.” Mara muttered, glancing at the clock… And shaking her head again, as she registered Ari’s outfit. Sports leggings, a T-shirt sporting the inspired slogan of coffee not toffee and no makeup, her hair scraped back into a bun.

“Exactly! We still have time to get dressed and I brought you fresh clothes, in case you were in the pool.” Ari said happily, thrusting a pink duffel bag in Mara’s direction. Mara simply stared at her blankly. “Come on! At least you’re all warmed up, any longer and we’ll be late!”

“For what?” Mara demanded. “It’s not even six-”

“I heard you the first time, would you just please get changed and we’ll discuss it later?”

The two girls stared at each other.

“You’re so like your brother sometimes.” Mara sighed, rolling her eyes - and taking the bag.

“Thank you!” Ari told her cheerfully.

Turning away, Mara sighed.

“It wasn’t a compliment.” She muttered to herself.

. . .

An hour later, and Mara found herself at… A rave.

A very specific type of rave.

It was called a morning rave; consisting of clean, green breakfasts and a smoothie bar, wherein one would start their day with a yoga class and following dance party. It was insane. Mara had walked into a nondescript city building during the dim daylight of the morning… And found a room stuffed with bright colours, large balloons, too much confetti and pounding dance music.

It wasn’t fancy, or expensive, or a once-in-a-lifetime experience. But it was completely mad.

And that was exactly what Mara needed… Especially when the DJ announced it was a 2010’s music throwback.

“How did you know?” Mara tried to shout over the music, as the beat began to kick up.

Ari shook her head, motioning to her ear.

“How-” Mara shook her head, before pulling out her phone and tapping out the message - How did you know?, before showing Ari the screen.

Pixie snatched it before Ari could reply.

Because we’re not as stupid as Dany, her reply read.

Mara knew Pixie meant that in a million ways - and possibly Ari, too. But in that moment, she didn’t care. She allowed herself to not have to worry about what anyone thought, or what anyone was thinking - and that was when she realised that that was their little morning trip’s whole point.

*

Dany was just finishing his run, when he saw Raj exiting from the front door. He seemed to be watching something with grave concentration - a video, Dany could hear loud music even with the distance between them - and did not at all seem amused.

“You look happy.” Dany commented as a way of greeting. Raj grunted. “What’re you looking at?”

“You haven’t seen it?” Raj mumbled, not looking up. Dany shook his head - but realising Raj wasn’t looking, quickly explained.

“My phone’s meant to arrive this morning.”

The prospect of being without technology somehow managed to steal away Raj’s attention.

“You’ve been without it for this long?” He muttered, aghast. Dany shrugged - before Raj handed him his own phone. “Here.”

Dany’s eyebrows shot up in surprise at what he saw.

Pixie, Ari and Mara; the three of them only, Mara’s cousins nowhere in sight. Of course, that wasn’t necessarily the surprising part.

Pixie held the camera as they danced; Pixie in yoga pants and a jumper, Ari in leggings and a T-shirt and Mara in leggings and a white-tank top, one where Dany could still clearly make out her black sports bra underneath, even under the flashing, bright lights. Mara’s face was red, as was the others’ - and aside from neon markings dotted across their faces (light splashes on Ari’s face, bright lips on Pixie and neon stripes on Mara’s cheeks), they wore no makeup, and were red and slightly sweaty. They were dancing - the camera shook as Pixie’s hand did - and singing loudly. The music was so loud that Dany could see Raj’s phone vibrating slightly as it played.

There were three clips - the first of the three of them dancing goofily at the camera, laughing, as the song began to play; another as Pixie and Mara downed what looked like shot glasses, captioned ginger shots and Mara gagging as Pixie laughed, unfazed by the burn; and a third that, once over, Dany immediately replayed.

It was Ari and Mara; Ari dancing and singing with her eyes closed, looking somewhat melancholic, and Mara, raving hard - trying to follow the movements of her high ponytail made Dany slightly dizzy -, with what looked like a… Smoothie cup in her hand.

The music started slow, before picking up to a loud, angry beat.

Where were you? ‘Cause I can’t see, but I feel you watching me… Dilated, falling free, in a modern ecstasy…

Pixie appeared at the bottom of the screen, laughing and singing along as Ari and Mara began to yell the lyrics at each other - Mara almost angrily, Ari almost sadly, but both of them full of energy and screaming.

I’m over the show, at least now I know - it wasn’t love, it was a perfect illusion…

Dany snorted, snatching Raj’s phone - and immediately texting Mara’s phone, paying no mind to the conversation clearly shared between Raj and Mara above the typing section.

If I were more insecure a fiance, I’d be worried - D x. He hit send.

Dany continued to smirk slightly as Raj hit replay, frowning beside him - but it quickly disappeared as Dany noticed something at the end and, before Raj could open his mouth to comment, hit replay again.

“Yeah.” Raj muttered absently, as they both leant in, concentrating on the screen. “Exactly.”

Dany was about to ask what Raj was talking about - until his words stopped in his throat, as he realised Mara wasn’t wearing her engagement ring.

Up until that moment, Dany had been fine. Amused, even. Mara was having fun, he knew Ari was safe. Ginger shots were not the most dangerous thing the girls could’ve been drinking. Even seeing the two of them dance; Dany knew Mara would get more attention, simply because of that… Energy (and the form-fitting, yet somehow effortless effect of the tank top) that she had, and that didn’t matter because… Well, it hit him in that moment. It hadn’t mattered, because Mara would’ve been wearing her engagement ring.

At first, Dany quickly became annoyed. This video was available to anyone who knew the three of them on social media. It was reckless. Why would a happy bride-to-be go out two days before her wedding, without a wedding ring? Although a small part of Dany’s mind had immediately reasoned that there were a plethora of sensible reasons for Mara to not wear it to… Wherever she was (sweat, the dark, etc), he quickly ignored it. He didn’t like it.

… And then Dany realised why.

And then Dany realised why Mara would be so reckless - even if she’d thought he’d not see it, with his lack of phone - and, as if struck by lightning, remembered the voice message he’d tried so hard to forget in Vegas. Apparently, he’d been a bit too successful.

“I’ll catch you later.” Dany muttered, all but running into the house - and ignoring Raj’s protests behind him.

Meanwhile, in the middle of a song called Bad Romance - that Mara head-banged to with a particular enthusiasm - her phone buzzed in her pocket. Pausing to glance at the screen, Mara’s eyes rolled so far back into her head at the message, that for a moment, she almost saw her brain.

She turned off her phone after that - and returned to the song with particular gusto.

. . .

By the time the rave was over - and, for the rest of the city, when their days began - Mara’s phone was dead, from the stupid amount of evidence she’d taken of herself actually… Having fun.

It had probably been a good thing her phone had ran out of battery; she was likely to just stare forlornly at it, thinking of all she was going to lose in a few days. A family. Friends. People who understood it.

Except, that wasn’t strictly true. And whilst Mara didn’t blame Ari, or Pixie, or anyone else associated with or part of the Zafar clan, for the actions she’d chosen to take (… with the exception of maybe Danyal) she couldn’t help but feel… Cheated. Angry. Perhaps even a bit jealous; and those were all things Mara didn’t want to think.

Mara had been dreading it, hoping that, when the time came, she’d be able to wish it away; that inevitable moment, when she relaxed and stopped thinking for long enough… That all of a sudden, she was living in fast-forward.

*

The Sunken Gardens, Kensington Palace Kensington, London 1 Day to Go

It was happening before Mara even had time to blink.

She purposefully avoided her phone - even when it was fully charged and flashing at her, filled with messages and notifications and alerts about her upcoming nuptials. She didn’t even flick through the many files she’d sent of herself yesterday of her, Pixie and Ari having fun the day before. It was… Too much. All of it. And being constantly reminded of that wasn’t going to do her any good.

Mara was in a pensive mood as the day went on; a day where she was largely left to her own devices, as the Zafars and her own family - if she could even call it that - prepared for the evening ahead. The last event before the wedding - the mehndi, the proper one, the one for family and fun. Dany wouldn’t be there - and he would be the only one.

For that, Mara was supremely grateful. In (yet again) a super pathetic kind of way, it felt… Good. Final. Like a nice parting before everyone went to shit and either had to pretend to hate her, for the sake of Dany and Divvy, or actually hate her.

So by the time early evening rolled around, and the sun was warm and lazy in the sky, Mara felt… Okay.

And then she saw it.

The Sunken Gardens of Kensington Palace; a giant rectangle of greenery, filled with other rectangles of brightly coloured flowers, with a fountain in the middle… And giant, bright umbrellas and cushions by the fountain for shade, with petals in the pool. Fairy lights were already strung in all of the bushes, ready to be lit, as well as rainbow-coloured lanterns hanging above them - and at the head of the fountain, a small canopy with its orange curtains tied back by pink and orange bouquets; and a comfy set of armchairs, of which one was hers.

Mara couldn’t help how her eyes immediately swelled with tears. She didn’t have the incentive of ruining her eyeliner or whatever - she was bare-faced, in preparation for the stupid amount of oil and weird creams about to be smeared on her face in the name of beauty (and the amusement of her guests).

“I’m going to miss this.” Mara mumbled, smiling slightly, and more so to herself than her aunt and Danyal’s mother beside her.

“What, the excitement of getting married?” Her aunt asked, her voice dripping in sarcasm.

Mara hid her smile as she saw Pixie and Ari share an agitated look.

“No.” She told her aunt coolly. “Being pleasantly surprised.” Because God knew, she’d had enough unpleasant ones lately.

That was the real moment. The proper one. The one where Mara realised just how much she was leaving behind - and, as she stepped towards the bright orange armchair calling her name, Mara really, sincerely hoped that Dany thought Divya Kapoor was worth it.

. . .

By the time the sun was setting, it were as if the rest of Mara’s week had been a bad dream. The lies. The isolation. The loneliness. The helplessness, of knowing so much of it was her fault, simply because of who she was, of how she existed.

The music was obscenely loud and Mara had been impressed to find a stage of sorts had been set up, at the top of the small set of stairs leading down into the garden from the main palace entrance; and it was like a dream, as Mara laughed and cheered and made stupid jokes as her friends and family made her smile.

Even the infamously moody Tara Zafar managed to have fun; and Mara yelled so loudly in approval at her final surprise, of a small performance by Ari, Raj and Pixie in front of everyone, that her throat felt hoarse.

She also waggled her eyebrows in a very obvious way, at how Ari and Raj shared a secret smile after Raj, between both girls and loosely holding their hands, took a bow… And knew there was nothing Ari could do but subtly glower, seeing as they were both in public.

Mara ate too much, too. She didn’t think about how her clothes were white, or how she was probably burning a bit too pink from the heat, or how greasy her hair was probably going to become with everyone wanting to chuck oil into it so it’d be shiny for tomorrow - or even why she was there. She just enjoyed it. The breeze, the lights of the palace glittering up in front of them… The smell of flowers and jasmine candles mixed with samosas and mango yoghurt milkshakes and henna drying on her hands.

All of her cousins danced; some goofily, some theatrically. Even Kabir joined in; he and Ari did a small comedy skit together, where Ari pretended to be their brother and Kabir was a very convincing Samara.

Divya had meant to be doing something, a proper performance from her and TJ’s new movie - but halfway through the night, she saw Raj and TJ talking urgently with each other, where they thought they were out of sight. Even that didn’t bother her. If anything, she was more than happy to cheer her old friend on his own.

Mara loved every moment; but each one was gone too soon, until the sky was dark above them and the doors to the palace’s main hall were open, ready for everyone to move.

“Aren’t you coming?”

Mara glanced up and smiled, as she saw Kabir grinning down at her.

“I am.” She promised - before motioning with her still-wet hands for Kabir to come over. “Help me up. I just want to clear my head for a few minutes before everyone goes for my hair again.”

Kabir cackled to himself, helping Mara to stand by the elbows so as to not smudge her henna.

“You sure you won’t be long?” Kabir asked, beginning to move goofily to the loud, Punjabi party music playing from inside.

Swaying in time with him, making them both grin, Mara nodded. Kabir snorted.

“You look like a puppet.” He muttered, motioning to how Mara had to keep her hands straight, so as to avoid smudging.

Mara raised an eyebrow. “That’s because I am one.” She pointed out dryly - and although it didn’t bother her to say it, not in the slightest, Kabir frowned.

She didn’t understand why. It had just been a joke - a funny one, she’d thought - but just as she opened her mouth to somehow try and take it back, Kabir spoke again.

“Can’t you guys just get married?” Kabir pouted - and Mara felt her chest freeze, her throat closing off before she could breathe. “You know, just - ignore the fact you’d be married to him. We’d hang out all of the time!”

It hit her like a fucking double decker bus. Literally. Every bone in her body ached and her eyes filled up with too many tears for her to blink away, out of nowhere - because this person, this one person actually wanted her to stay. Wanted to be around her, for everything she already was. This… Boy. When nobody else did.

And it felt so good to just be wanted and cared for for once - but it was such a new feeling, that all of the horrible thoughts and doubts that had been plaguing her, the ones she’d managed to forget, suddenly felt like they were crushing her and Mara felt her knees physically begin to wobble. Because she just wanted to drop to the floor and cry.

One person. One person, of all of the people in her life, of the stupid, long list of contacts in her phone and the people who posted fire emojis under her selfies; out of all of those people, there was one person, one kid, who actually gave a shit.

And even that was probably wrong! He was Danyal’s brother. He was probably just being charming and a bit sentimental. But Mara allowed herself to fall for it, because - well, who else did she have to help her kid herself?

Kabir’s face dropped - and quickly became horrified - as he watched Mara wipe away a tear with her forearm.

“I didn’t mean to upset you-”

“You didn’t, you idiot!” Mara admonished, shaking her head - and beaming at him, this little idiot, who was now staring at her as if she’d just landed off’ve a flying saucer. “Listen. Forget your idiot brother - whatever happens, you call me, okay?”

It had meant to come out lighthearted.

It didn’t.

It made Mara smile through the tears, though - to see as Kabir nodded seriously.

“You’re not going to start crying hysterically or anything if I leave you out here, right?” He asked dubiously, making Mara laugh again as she sniffled. “Because I don’t feel so good about leaving you here now-”

“If you don’t live,” Mara said sweetly. “I’m going to tell everyone you made me cry. Leave me in peace.”

Kabir sighed, rolling his eyes - but Mara laughed slightly as he smiled, and nodded once, before heading back inside. A boy. A literal kid understood her sense of humour more than… Anyone in her life currently did.

With a gusty sigh, Mara squatted, until comfortably low enough to drop her butt to the floor. Pulling her knees to her chest, Mara let the tips of her shoes hover over the water, her chin tucked into her knees and her arms resting out by her sides.

She watched the petals floating in the dim water, nodding her head slightly to the song playing from inside. A duet, a party song and, of course - a love song.

It was an old song, a very old song, and Mara shook her head to herself at the cheesy lyrics - the guy was telling the girl of his affections to stare deeply into his eyes -, but nonetheless, she couldn’t help but sing along as she replied - do something to make me yours.

Mara’s smile faded again as the song continued cheerily, so mismatched to the pensive, troubled expression of her reflection.

She shuddered slightly to herself, though not quite from the cold, as the breeze wafted by.

Kabir had broken the spell. It wasn’t his fault. He’d just been… Being honest. It was not his fault that Mara was such a steaming mess.

Mara blinked slowly. Such a steaming, horrible, messy mess.

The song continued behind her and Mara just… Sat there, smelling the jasmine. She wanted to go back inside, she did. She didn’t want the evening to end.

But whether that was because she was just having fun, or because she just didn’t want to face tomorrow… She didn’t know. And even though she was enjoying the silence, even though it was refreshing to just sit uninterrupted and think without having to fake a million expressions, she didn’t want to think about what she was.

She just felt so… Unsettled! And she didn’t understand. This was what she wanted. And Danyal definitely wanted it - so why was she sitting here, feeling bad? Feeling… Lost? It was the same plan it had always been. Beneficial to them both, so why, why now, was she doubting all of it? Yeah, it seemed more stupid than it had before, but nothing had changed. How could anything have changed…?

Because now, if she was being serious, if she was being honest - and sitting there, amongst the flowers and the trees and the colourful lights, it felt like the perfect place to be -  her heart didn’t skip into a million beats whenever Danyal walked into the room. Not ever. Not once.

But she felt… Something.

Mara exhaled slowly, shaking her head - and closing her eyes.

Monte Carlo, when she’d joined the Zafars on their annual trip. It had been perfect timing to introduce her to everyone in a nondescript, but still entirely… There, kind of way. But then there had been some fancy event, a dinner, and at the last minute, Mara and Dany had managed to lose each other before their big entrance.

Of course, it wasn’t meant to be a big entrance; but it involved a staircase, a fancy staircase leading to a room full of fancy people, a staircase Mara had felt stupid and self-conscious to be walking down on her own. But she hadn’t seen him anywhere and she couldn’t just… Loiter by herself, so she’d walked down the stupid damned staircase.

It had been horrifying. Like a fairytale gone wrong, because even though she’d looked like a princess - in a flowing, light blue gown that sparkled under the light, with shimmering sleeves that joined between her fingers and thumbs and her hair tied into a neat bun -, she’d felt like she was walking into a horror movie, cluelessly walking towards her slaughter, like all of the girls Mara yelled at whilst watching them.

But she’d had to do it. So Mara had kept her head down, her hand sliding down the bannister - until she’d seen Dany waiting for her at the bottom; and when her hand reached the end of the bannister, it effortlessly slipped into his, outstretched and waiting for her.

She’d felt such a rush of… Warmth. She’d thought it was relief. And he’d looked good, too, so effortlessly dapper - Mara could still remember it, still remembering how the Hell he was pulling it off - jeans, a casual polo shirt, a blazer and a silk scarf hanging loosely from his neck, all in varying shades of grey, no less -, so she’d thought it was smugness, too. At being the one to be standing next to him.

She knew better now.

She’d kept feeling it. When, after losing him in the crowd to other guests, he’d appeared behind her - even though she’d been fine, enjoying herself, actually -, his hand on the small of her back and his shoulder brushing the back of hers as he murmured updates into her ear. How he’d stayed with her for most of the night, his breath hot and minty on the back of her neck, his hand loosely cupping the curve of her waist.

Except - and Mara’s eyes flashed open - she couldn’t trust that feeling. How could she?! She’d been along for so long. She’d been looking for validation for so long - her eyes misted over slightly as she stared grimly at her reflection -, that just… Having someone around, having someone even faking being interested in her for a crowd… And it had felt good. To be touched. Not in a sexual way, to just be touched, and touched gently, like she was soft and gentle, like she could afford to be, like life hadn’t made her the way she was and ruined all of that stuff for her before she’d ever had a chance.

Companionship and trust and gratitude were not feelings Samara could trust. She’d had them all a million times before, with the same few people who kept screwing her over. Christ on a stick, her own mother still didn’t want her! And her father never had! Was she honestly that stupid, that insecure and out of her fucking mind, that she was going to let that ruin everything? Have her desperately begging for attention from random guys, stupid and annoying guys like Danyal Zafar, entitled guys because her self-esteem was so below sea level?

Mara turned away from her reflection, shaking her head again. No. No, she wasn’t. She had the rest of her life on a platter in front of her, her freedom, and she was sitting her, doubting that? No. No. She still wanted it. No, in fact, now, she needed it. More than ever.

Everything just felt wrong.

“Samara.”

Mara groaned quietly.

“Wonderful.” She muttered to herself, tossing her hair out of her face and squeezing her eyes shut. “Now you’re hearing his fucking voice everywhere, you lo-”

The words fell apart in her mouth as, opening her eyes again, Mara saw Danyal in the water - and when she whipped around to check she wasn’t losing her mind (but hoping she was), she couldn’t help the sharp intake of breath she took when she realised he was actually standing there.

“What-” Really? Now? Underneath the pretty lights and with the breeze wafting through his fluffy, un-styled hair and with him looking all tense and worried? No. No! She didn’t want to do this now, she didn’t have the energy, or the inclination, to fight him now. As if a giant camera crew were going to hop out of one of the bushes and tell her it was all a big joke, Mara glanced wildly around. “What’re you even doing here, you’re not supposed to be here tonight-”

“Raj helped me sneak in.” Dany said impatiently. “I heard your message.”

Even though Mara knew exactly what he was talking about… She shrugged.

“If you got the message I wanted to be ignored, I don’t understand why we’re talking to each other right now.” Mara said tiredly, unaware that it made sense; she didn’t know Danyal had tried calling her what felt like a million times, how he’d text and messaged too. She just knew of the message he’d sent after seeing the video of her and the girls at the Daybreaker rave. “Everyone is inside, including your parents-”

“I’m so sorry about your father.”

Her words jammed in her throat - but Mara swallowed them back. No. She was fine. She was fine.

“You have nothing to be sorry about.” Mara shrugged, staring at the reflection of the bottom of her shoes in the water. Not him, standing over her behind her. Not even her own face. No, thank you. “It’s not your fault.”

“It’s not my fault they’re assholes, but it’s my fault I wasn’t there-”

“No.” Mara said sharply, shaking her head slowly. “No, no, you - don’t do that. You don’t owe me anything. You made it clear we weren’t to speak and I called you and I shouldn’t have-”

“Mara.” Dany sighed helplessly - and, sneaking a peek at his reflection, Mara fought the lump in her throat as he pinched the bridge of his nose. He looked… Good. Handsome. He wore blue jeans, a white T-shirt and a velvet, mustard blazer - and even though she couldn’t see his face and his hair was sticking up in several places, she knew he looked good. Surprisingly, mustard suited him. “Please don’t do that-”

His voice. He sounded so… Sincere.

Grow a pair.

“I mean it, Dany.” She told him - and mustering up every ounce of strength she had (which… really wasn’t much at this point), she looked up at him seriously. “I’m not being passive aggressive or anything. You told me we weren’t to talk to each other. You had a point, a valid point-” Mara faltered slightly as Dany shook his head, looking vaguely disgusted - before dropping to the floor, cross-legged, in front of her. Immediately, she began to shrink away. “It’s not your job to look after me. Don’t… Beat yourself up about it, I didn’t need you, I just-”

“Wanted me?” Dany finished, his voice dangerously… No. Mara felt sick. She couldn’t even think it. No.

Hopeful?

It was paranoia. Plain and simple. For a moment, Mara thought he’d meant… Something else, something deeper. That’s why she looked at him with such wide eyes, why she felt like a deer in headlights - but it was that, not the poor choice behind Dany’s words, that made the air between them seem heavier.

Because she saw it. She saw recognition first, then shock, then disbelief, cross over Dany’s face as he realised what she’d thought he was asking - and Mara had to look away, because what she’d just seen had been in one micro-expression, in one twitch of his eyebrow and that…

That wasn’t normal.

It was. But it wasn’t supposed to be. They were meant to know each other well, be able to read each other, but it was too much now. So much so, that Mara was worried it was never going to go away.

Mara held her breath as neither one of them moved. She didn’t mean to. She just… Couldn’t help it.

“Your parents are assholes.” Dany said suddenly - and he sounded angry now, and for some reason, that scared her. He scooted closer and Mara almost flinched away from him as she leant away slightly, feeling her heart beat sickeningly hard inside of her throat. Dany’s eyes searched her face and she felt… Exposed, because he wasn’t just looking at her, and his eyes weren’t just angry, they were more and she didn’t want to know why. “You deserve better.”

“I-” Mara tried to joke, to say she thought so too, but she couldn’t, she couldn’t, because Dany’s jaw was clenching as if he were… Emotional and maybe she was just overthinking things? Right? Maybe she was just being a total… Moron, it wouldn’t be the first time.

“Samara, I-”

“Don’t, Danyal, please don’t, I can’t.” She blurted - before gasping sharply, as she realised what she’d just done.

Dany’s eyes widened slightly - and now they both knew, they knew that she’d just broken their vow of silence and she’d just acknowledged that he’d been about to.

Mara didn’t know how long they stared at each other like that for. She didn’t want to. It couldn’t get any worse.

… And then it did, because understanding flashed through Dany’s eyes and he carried on talking.

“It’s not your fault.” He said, like he’d read her mind, and Mara wanted to roll her eyes because, holy shit, whatever conversation with herself she’d been trying to ease herself into, Dany was now forcing her into a whole damn… Bog of it. “Samara,” Mara squeezed her eyes shut and moved her face in the other direction, at how Dany grabbed her forearm. “It isn’t your fault that they’re the most useless-”

“No, it’s not their fault they made me me, it’s mine!” She burst - and it was all tumbling out now, and there were tears in her eyes and holy fucking shit, this was exactly what she hadn’t wanted. “I am not enough for them, there is something wrong with me-”

“That’s not true-”

“Maybe, but Dany, that’s how it feels.” Her eyes welled again - and Dany could only watch helplessly as tears began to fall down her face. Her voice had cracked on that last word and somehow, as stupid as it was, that suddenly felt like the dumbest thing in the world. But that was what she was crying about. At least, she was telling herself that. She wasn’t wasting more tears on… Anyone, ever again. And unfortunately, every person in the world had the capability to try and force it out of her.

Frustrated with herself, Mara brushed her tears away. God, could she be any more ridiculous?

“What can I do?” Dany demanded. For some reason it made Mara laugh - though just the once. “Samara-”

“Honestly?” She interrupted - and Dany nodded. Mara shook her head again, trying to convince herself not to say it. “I could use a hug right now.”

For a minute, she actually thought he wouldn’t do it - but then the next thing she knew, he’d moved, and before she’d even turned around to see what he was doing properly, she felt Dany lifting her arms gently out of the way… And his back was pressed against hers.

Just like that, she was warm. Just like that, without giving it another thought, Mara was sighing in relief and leaning back against his chest, letting his arms wrap around her waist and hold her pressed tightly against him, her arms, still damp from the henna, resting over his jeans.

“People change.” Dany told her - and Mara closed her eyes and rest her head against his shoulder, enjoying the smell of the jasmine and the water and his aftershave all mixed into one. “Your parents-”

“That… Woman has always had a plan to keep me out of sight, out of mind.” Mara muttered, shaking her head. She looked out to the water.

Dany’s arms held her closer.

“Plans change.” He murmured - and although a statement, it came out like a silent question.

She wanted to look behind her. She knew his face was just over her shoulder, and she wanted to see him, to prove to herself later that she hadn’t imagined the hidden meaning.

But she didn’t.

“Not all of them.” Mara said quietly… Before sighing and staring straight ahead. She didn’t want to see what they looked like, like this. “Thank you, though, if I don’t get to-” Mara let out a gusty breath. If I don’t get to say it tomorrow. “I mean, you know, for-”

Words. Words, use your words!

“For?” She hated it. How calm he sounded. How collected.

It was even more annoying when it felt like he’d be able to feel her heart beating against his chest.

Mara pressed her lips together. She - if words weren’t coming out, if her mind was blank, then it was a good thing. Sometimes words were just more trouble.

… In Mara’s silence, Dany understood.

“It’s not you.” He told her. Mara fought back a fresh wave of tears - but, in a weird way, his words helped, too. She felt… Stronger for it. “It’s not… You’re not… Not wanted.”

So much stronger.

Taking a deep breath, Mara leant her head back on his shoulder - and held her breath as tightly as she could, when she saw Dany up close.

The stubble growing on his jaw. The snugness of his teeth - crooked, but in a cute way, in a young sort of way, and his gorgeous brown eyes and his long eyelashes and his mouth, parting slightly, and those eyes were on her lips too and…

Mara moved forwards.

Away from him.

She let out her breath - before balancing herself, somehow without her arms, so that she was squatting in her loose-fitting white tunic and matching trousers again. She pivoted slightly, facing him.

She looked at that stupid face.

“Bye, Dany.” She said - and it sounded wrong, for her voice to no longer be hushed. It sounded loud - and just like that, she was back in the real world. The loud music continued to play in the background, she could hear everyone laughing and singing and the wind whistling through the flowers.

Before she could stop herself, Mara leant forwards - and kissed him on the forehead.

She didn’t check his expression. She didn’t look back. She kept walking.

You’re not not wanted.

She repeated those words in her head with each step. And it… Made it easier, actually. To keep walking. To push down the sad stuff and remember that the whole evening was acting like some sort of goodbye.

She didn’t see how Dany opened and closed his mouth, how he looked for words to say in a moment that was gone. To ask why he couldn’t say what it felt like they’d already said.

That he was in love with her. That he’d known it the moment he’d heard her message, heard the pain in her voice and wanted nothing more than to be with her. That he’d known when he’d moved, he’d been moving, to kiss her just now because he couldn’t stop himself anymore, because even though they’d kissed before, he wanted this time to be different.

But he knew why he couldn’t. He knew who was the reason he couldn’t.

Watching as Mara went inside without another glance, her arms out in front of her like some sort of offering, Dany felt his mind whirl at a million miles per minute.

… But that had just happened. Right? That had been a clue, they hadn’t said it, but by not saying it, didn’t that mean -?

Dany slowly climbed to his feet, frowning at the floor.

Didn’t that mean she felt it too?

[modosphere]

Is It Killing You?: A Dara Drabble

The second instalment of the Dara wedding drabbles! Sorry it took so long, but the next one will be out veeeerryyy soon :) enjoy! And please let me know what you think!

*

Centurion Mall Islamabad, Pakistan 2041 11 Days to Go

“So you just… Missed your final fitting last night?” Pixie asked, narrowing her eyes. Samara nodded, continuing to stare up at the Cinnabon menu in front of her. “For no reason? Even though it was booked and going to be all private, like you like, and you flew down for it specifically? You just... Decided not to turn up?”

“Yep.” Samara sighed, sounding bored. “… Pretty much.”

“And you made this completely sensible decision after you and my idiot cousin decided that not speaking between now and the wedding was a good idea? And it’s apparently totally unrelated to an argument you said you both had over Divya Kapoor?”

“That’s what I told you.” Mara muttered, hiding her sigh. “Does Ari want anything from here? Is she already at the shop?”

“Samara.” Mara suppressed her irritation as Pixie forced her to face her, the guy at the register being completely ignored. “What happened? Did you tell him how you feel? Because if he’s ignoring it, well, let me tell you-”

But by then, Mara had already begun to roll her eyes.

“You don’t need to tell me anything!” She groaned, rolling her eyes. God. Talk about obsessed. “Dany and I fought, like we always do, no big deal, there were no feelings to tell him about and I decided to spend my night drinking shakes and watching documentaries on white collar criminals instead of turning up to an empty, scary shopping mall after hours for a tailoring appointment!”

… And whilst none of that was a lie, it wasn’t exactly the whole truth either. Not that Mara even knew what the full truth was so, really, it was inconsequential.

Samara almost regretted telling Pixie that she’d join her and Ari for their final fittings that morning. But it needed to be done, and Pixie had arranged for them to all meet for lunch at the exclusive Islamabad Club - of which, of course the Zafars and Awans were members -, after which, Mara knew, they’d spend the day together. Samara had figured it would be… Nice to have company at the fitting. And the outfit needed to be ready for tomorrow, and Pixie and Ari were leaving for London to prepare her bridal shower that afternoon and -

She just wanted to order her breakfast Cinnabon.

“Everyone will be staring. Wondering why we’ve got a security guard stopping people from entering the couture section with the named designer acting as our tailor, people will be, as you put it, gawping, but you put that aside to watch some lame documentary and bloat before your fitting?” Pixie huffed, her voice dangerously soft. Mara’s facade cracked slightly. Well, of course it sounded bad when Pixie put it like that. Pixie could be talking about the births of unicorns and she could make it sound like the news alert for a military blast. “Have your lost your mind?”

Mara tried to blink away her guilt.

She didn’t even know why she was feeling guilty! She was fine. She’d just… Fancied lying face-down on the sofa last night, yelling stupid comments at the screen as the criminals on it made it too damn easy for them to get caught.

And honestly, for the record, not talking to Danyal for the next week and a half or whatever was a blessing. He was irritating. Sometimes, it felt like she was more his parole officer than his fake fiancee. She hadn’t had any messages to say he’d landed in Mumbai safely, nothing alerting her to the fact he and Raj were on their seventeen hour flight to Las Vegas. No irritating, reassuring messages that, despite Dany’s guilt at the secret bride waiting for him on the other side of the stag Raj had so generously curated for him, Dany was not going to blurt out the secret of Divya being the preferred bride and consequently ruin their entire plan and, oh, possibly have Raj throw him out of a plane.

It was great. Mara hadn’t heard from him since his shitty, silent, rude as fuck exit this morning. Woohoo.

“I…” Mara struggled to find words. Good words, anyway. “Am waiting to be served.” She finished lamely, motioning to the slightly terrified Cinnabon employee, watching them with wide eyes from behind the register.

“And bloat more? Are you kidding?” Pixie hissed, tossing back her perfect black hair.

“No, and neither is he about marrying that asshole, so I can bloat as much as I want - but thank you for caring about the aesthetic.” Mara told Pixie calmly - before turning to the register. “Can I get a normal Cinnabon for now, and have one pecan and two chocolate on standby for our driver to bring it upstairs in a little while?” Before the guy could respond, Mara turned to Pixie - whose mouth was open in outrage. “Am I getting anything for you and Zarina or not?”

Pixie narrowed her eyes.

“Right.” She said sarcastically. “You and Dany definitely didn’t fight. You’re not missing him at all.”

Mara pretended she hadn’t heard, and turned back to the register.

“And give me a couple of tubs of extra frosting, too.” She muttered quietly, chewing on her lip as she took out her wallet.

. . .

Pixie had been right. She had been right. Having so many of the other shoppers gawping at her was… Suffocating.

She hated it. The way people watched and whispered and smiled. There was nothing to smile about. She’d stared at her reflection, that stupid reflection surrounding her on all sides while she stood on that ridiculous little podium, of her hair being a mess and bags under her eyes and a lot of bloating… Looking like a mess. Eating her Cinnabon, with frosting on the corners of her mouth.

Mara had almost thrown up, it was so suffocating. She’d claimed she needed a second and then thrown herself into the very last couture lounge, away from everyone’s prying eyes, while Pixie had sampled tiaras out of boredom and Ari’s sleeves had been getting fixed.

And she’d had to force herself to breathe. And calm the Hell down, because she was panicking over nothing.

It was fine. It was all just great. After the wedding, she’d be free of Dany’s stupid, ridiculous, assholish ways and she wouldn't have to listen to Pixie, or Ari, for that matter. It’d all be over.

As Mara had slid against the wall and to the floor, wearing a baggy T-shirt and her heavily decorated skirt, somehow… She hadn’t felt better.

"Five minutes.” She’d whispered to herself, fighting to keep the water in her eyes from spilling and staring up at the intricately carved wooden ceiling. “You get five minutes to do your drama.”

And five minutes later, Mara was back on the stupid podium surrounded by mirrors, smiling politely at the tailors and thanking her on-looking fans with appropriately self-deprecating laughter. She arranged her face into whatever it needed to be, grinning and bearing it all.

Only those who knew her - really knew her - would ever have been able to tell that she’d cried.

*

Bellagio Las Vegas Las Vegas, Nevada

“Have you told the Mrs that you’ve arrived safely?” Raj sighed, slinging an arm over Dany’s shoulder.

“Yeah.” Dany lied, avoiding eye contact. They were leaning against the wall of the lift, exhausted - Dany perhaps more so than Raj. After all, Dany had been the one struggling to keep in his secret for the past seventeen hours. He’d almost kissed the tarmac when they’d landed. “

“Good.” Raj said happily, squeezing Dany’s shoulders. “Now, you’re all mine.”

At that, Dany gave him a funny look - but then the elevator doors opened and Dany grinned, as, in the sprawling penthouse that laid out Vegas beneath them, he saw some of his closest friends - including Ed Styles, Hughie Horan, the Princes Stefan and Gustav of Monaco and…

Dany’s smile faded slightly as he spotted TJ - Divya’s supposed boyfriend, and somehow one of Mara’s old friends - and Rafi, Mara’s cousin, amongst the others.

It barely lasted a second, Dany meeting their eyes - but then he was engulfed in the crowd, laughing as he was put on the shoulders of his friends.

“Ladies, gentleman, philanderers, assholes and whores!” Raj shouted loudly, jumping onto the table. A waitress in a scanty maid’s outfit supplied Raj with a drink. “Now, as we know, our whipped boy over here has requested this be a dry stag-”

“You’re all raging alcoholics.” Dany snorted good-naturedly over the booing crowd.

“- but I solemnly swear that, in the name of this stag party…” Raj paused dramatically, as the rest of them quietened. “We will act drunk, we will look drunk, and, for all intents and purposes, over the course of these next few days, we will be drunk for the greatest stag party the world has ever seen - because, as of a few moments ago, the text has been sent, the Mrs knows he has arrived safely and he is all ours!”

Dany pretended to bow as the group cheered.

It helped him to hide his expression of guilt.

Dany could feel TJ’s eyes more than Rafi’s, boring into the back of his head. But it wasn’t because of Divya that Dany felt… Uncomfortable.

You could just text her when you get a m-

No, you can’t.

Dany didn’t look in TJ’s direction again.

. . .

Merkenwell & Kay LLP Bank, London 9 Days to Go

She’d decided during her… Drama queen moment (one which she did not begrudge herself, because letting out feelings was a positive, healthy thing to do), at the fitting yesterday. The idea had struck her like lightning and without Danyal to talk her out of it, and with nobody else knowing the truth…

So she’d seen Ari and Pixie off at the airport that evening, knowing they’d be in London by the morning. And by the time they’d landed… Samara was already packed, waiting for the Zafar jet to return.

She wasn’t meant to be here! Not in London, not in Fleet Street. Not outside of this office. Her bridal shower was due to start on Saturday - two whole days away, and the jet wasn’t meant to be flying until Friday because of it. What if they found out she was here? How was she going to explain herself?

Normally, Mara would’ve asked Danyal for help. But seeing as the most Mara had heard from him since his leaving were SnapChat stories on his friends’ feeds… She wasn’t counting on it.

“What are you doing?” Samara whispered to herself - and her face began to crumple as she stared up at the towering glass building in front of her, innocuous and unmarked. Exhaling slowly, Mara began to pace, blinking away the blur in her vision. “What are you doing, what are you doing, what are you doing, what are you doing?”

She was going to be sick. That was what she was doing. Preparing herself to projectile vomit all over the pavement. It would be gross and disgusting and it’d make tears stream down her face, she’d be throwing up so badly, and because she’d be crouching over it’d come out of her nose, too, it’d be disgusting -

Samara forced herself to stop outside of the entrance.

“Stop being a pussy.” She told herself - before taking a deep breath and storming inside.

. . .

“I’m here to see Madeleine Kay.”

“Do you have an appointment?”

“No, I don’t need one. I’m her d-” Samara stopped herself. For a moment, she couldn’t speak - her heart was hammering in her throat and she felt dizzy, and sick, and she wanted to cry. But the neatly polished receptionist before her saw none of that - she saw a well-groomed and stylish young, dressed impeccably in cigarette pants and high heels. “Just tell her it’s Samara. She’ll want to see me.”

. . .

She’d found out when she was sixteen.

By eleven, Samara already knew she was adopted. It was almost a relief. It didn’t even bother her that, seemingly overnight, her adoptive mother - Madeeha Kayani, her ‘uncle’s’ sister - changed overnight. If anything, it made sense to the precocious young girl. Mara wasn’t hers. It explained the sudden swings between a… Calculated coolness, and random bursts of affection. It made her feel happy, smug even, at not being crazy for seeing them.

So the problem wasn’t that Samara was adopted. The problem was that nobody was willing to help her find her adoptive parents.

Mara could barely remember all of it. It had happened… So quickly. One day, everything had been fine, and the next, Mara was a rebellious child, lashing out at her fancy school and throwing tantrums. It didn’t help that she could read moods - and more often than not, Madeeha seemed disinterested in Samara’s need to find where she’d come from. Not hurt, not scared of losing her. Just increasingly bored of Mara’s interest and, as time wore on, bored of Samara herself.

Samara had been relieved when she’d been sent to a top girls’ boarding school in Kent. Things had only gotten worse and, with the promise of rough terrain in the form of her teenage years on the horizon… Mara wanted to be far away.

And then, during her first year at Benenden - her secondary school, the boarding one - she’d been hit by a cyclist on campus.

It had been… Not great. A broken wrist, bruised ribs - and worst of all, she’d needed pins placed in her hip while it healed. Nobody had been able to contact Madeeha. The hospital and the school had ended up doing most of the heavy lifting, while she was hospitalised. And they’d been great, they really had. Mara still kept in contact with the school - her old teachers, the nurses who had looked after her in the infirmary -… But they hadn’t been family.

She’d gotten the idea when she’d had her blood transfusion, before the surgery. Before then, she’d toyed with being a vet - but by the time the surgery rolled around, in just a few, short days, Mara had felt enough like a piece of meat on the table that the thought made her want to hit something. She didn’t want to look after people. The only person she ever wanted to be able to look after, was herself.

It had taken three weeks of waiting patiently in that infirmary and one incredibly awkward, painful struggle to reach the cabinet and steal her medical file. So what if Madeeha couldn’t be found? Who cared if she hadn’t come down to see Samara, since she’d arrived back in London? After all, she wasn’t real family. And they’d argued before Samara had left for boarding school, and hadn’t communicated since. They didn’t owe each other anything.

Samara always smirked wryly when she thought back to what she’d found in that stupid file. The kind of plot twist that not even Samara, with her love of fiction and desperate hope that one day she’d be worthy of affection, could have imagined.

Surprise! She wasn’t adopted. Samara was a very specific, rare blood type… That she’d inherited from Madeeha Kayani. Her father’s name hadn’t been listed.

When confronted, Madeeha didn’t have anything to say - not anything that made sense, at least. It had taken her such a long time to confront her adoptive and biological mother - and boy, was that fucked up to think -, that Samara’d had the time to do her own digging. She’d become obsessed. Madeeha had known about her accident, but she just hadn’t cared. Everything else Samara found out after that, was… Nothing.

It had all been bullshit. Such utter, complete fucking bullshit. Madeeha had gotten pregnant. She hadn’t wanted a baby. Her brother had found out and convinced her she could keep it, that they could hide it somehow. Adoption had somehow seemed like a smart idea.

And as soon as Samara knew the truth, well, Madeeha didn’t have to pretend to care anymore.

Before Samara had even turned seventeen, she’d decided to move away. To her uncle. He’d lied, too, but at least he’d kept her around - and beggars couldn’t be choosers.

She’d moved to attend NYU, after a blistering argument with Madeeha - now going by Madeleine - or Maddie to her friends - Kay, completely shedding herself of Samara’s existence at her fancy new law firm - when she was seventeen. She’d celebrated her birthday on a sunny morning in Central Park, eating ice cream and wondering whether she’d ever truly be loved. Her aunt had made it clear upon arrival that she wasn’t wanted… But it paid to be friends with Maddie, the fancy, impressive lawyer in London. So Samara had been allowed to stay.

Not that it had been all bad. Her cousins had become her sisters and her uncle… Cared. More than Maddie did. In fact, upon reaching New York, Samara began to tell anyone who asked that her adoptive mother was dead.

It wasn’t a lie. The mother Samara had thought she’d had as a child had stopped being present when she was eleven, and the mother she had by birthright had ceased to exist the moment her… Human incubator had decided to make Samara’s entire life a lie.

That had been almost three years ago. She and Madeleine Kay hadn’t spoken since.

Nobody knew. Mara’s uncle didn’t even know she knew the truth. She’d thought about telling him, a few times, but… What good would it do? So the secret stayed hidden.

… Until Samara had met Danyal Zafar.

They’d been memorising each other’s life histories one night, holed up in a hipster coffee place in Brooklyn. Mara had corrected something he’d said - something stupid, she couldn’t even remember what now - and Danyal had… Known she was lying. Apparently, in all of his memorising, Danyal had been able to tell that the fake tell Mara had made for herself was actually the real one.

So she’d told him.

It had surprised her, how much it had… Hurt, to say out loud. But somehow, it had made New York feel like… Home. To admit it.

Mara had confessed, over her coconut latte served in a goblet made out of wafers, that her experiences with Madeleine Kay was why she was so obsessed with Sophia Zafar.

Soph Zafar had gone through hardship, but she’d stayed true to who she was. She hadn’t blamed her culture, or her religion, or her family, for her mistakes - for her marriage to Zayn Malik. She owned that shit. And despite it, despite however difficult or fucked up her life had gotten, she’d kept moving. She’d made a new life for herself, away from the Malik brand. She’d become a ridiculously successful editor, and businesswoman, as well as a fashion industry legend. She’d married someone who adored her and had lived her happily ever after, was a great mother - and Samara knew that was true more than ever, after seeing the way Dany was with his mum - and had just… Done better. Been better than what she’d started off with. And then she’d fought off cancer!

She wasn’t just her career idol, Samara had explained. She was the super-Mum Mara wished she’d had. And although lying to Super-Mum sucked, knowing she was exactly what Samara had imagined, even if Mara would only ever be this close for a short while… It made Mara feel a little bit better about the rest of the world.

Mara smiled whenever she remembered what had happened next. She’d looked away from her coffee, up at Danyal - and found him watching her, eyebrows raised, and clearly overwhelmed by all she’d told him. They hadn’t exactly been friends at that point.

But then he’d sighed, and leant back in his chair and said, super sarcastically -

“Your Mum sounds awesome.”

Mara had blinked. And then she’d thought Dany was emotionless. And then she’d laughed, struck by how much… Lighter she felt, having said it all out loud - and having someone acknowledge it, even if it had been with one sentence and a vaguely hidden grimace of disgust - … And then she’d smiled to herself, as Dany told her he was going to buy her a cookie.

. . .

Samara felt oddly… Calm, as she waited.

Maybe calm was the wrong word. Agitated. Offended. Anxious. But it wasn't the same stomach churning fear as before, and for that, she was grateful. She supposed that once you were in the belly of the beast, it was a little bit too late to be scared of the beast as a whole.

After the receptionist - the law offices of Merkenwell & Kay were too fancy for name badges, apparently - had managed a clipped phone call, Mara had been instructed to go up to the reception on the thirty-first floor. So far, she'd been waiting for twenty nine minutes.

Surprisingly, it wasn't bothering her as much as it could have. She didn't have anywhere better to be. Jesus, after next week… She wouldn't have anywhere to be, full stop.

Feeling a flutter in her stomach as she a woman walking past her, much further down the corridor, Samara twisted the engagement ring on her finger.

“Can I help you with something?”

Mara glanced up, surprised to find a middle-aged businessman in a smart suit smiling down at her.

She blinked. In twenty eight of the twenty nine minutes she'd been on the thirty-first floor… She'd been ignored by even the guy who sold sandwiches from a noisy IKEA cart.

“I’m here to see Ms Kay.” Samara said, pairing it with a polite smile - one of her more charming ones. The way this guy was looking at her was… Odd. He had a kind face, and grey streaks in the sides of his hair. Samara’s stomach squirmed. “I was told to wait here, she's meant to be in a meeting…”

“We just finished.” This man was easily closer to Dany’s dad’s age than Samara’s - and although he didn't have the immediately calming, if not slightly imposing, demeanour of Samara’s almost-father-in-law… He didn't seem creepy. “I can walk you over?” He offered.

Samara hesitated, glancing at the thin leather watch on her wrist. Thirty two minutes.

“Um…” She looked back at reception. There were three receptionists and each one of them was still pretending like she didn’t exist. “…Yes, please. If it's not too much trouble.”

“It's not.” The man said happily, motioning for her to follow him. Mara quickly rose to her feet. “It's nice to see Maddie have visitors, she never usually has-”

Mara nodded, barely listening - though she had noticed one thing. Maddie.

They were walking through a corridor now, filled with offices with large, glass panelling instead of doors. Clearly, this was a senior floor - so why the lack of privacy? Did they feel the need to show how hard they were working, so justify being part of some kind of tax evasion club? Was it a size thing? It seemed like a size thing…

They stopped abruptly, so abruptly that Mara almost ran into her guide’s back. Realising he was staring at her as if expecting to speak, Samara somehow managed to scramble the words to thank him… Whilst struggling to not look through the glass.

She didn’t want to ugly-puke on this guy’s shoes. They were brogues, and Mara wasn’t sure whether or not the decorative holes were permeable.

“Want me to see you in?” He offered pleasantly. Mara shook her head.

Before she knocked on the door, she caught a glimpse of her reflection - a tall, thin young girl, in chic black trousers, black heels, a grey cable-knit jumper and a long black waistcoat, her hair tied into a loose ponytail at the base of her neck. She almost didn't recognise herself, she looked so slick.

And then, past her reflection… A tall, thin woman, in a smart white dress, tapping away at her desk.

Unfortunately, she recognised her.

She knocked before she had the time to reconsider - and walked in, without invitation.

When the woman at the desk looked up, Mara slowed, letting her hand fall gently from the door’s handle.

Samara wasn't sure how long they stared at each other for. How, all of a sudden, she felt sick again. What was she doing here? What did she want, what did she expect? There'd been a reason that Samara had never taken the thought of doing this seriously before. So why now? Why was she doing this?!

“I'm sure you have better things to do the week before your wedding, than turn up at my office uninvited.” Madeleine - no, screw that, Madeeha - sighed, after what felt like an eternity.

Just like that, Samara wasn't scared anymore. She was just angry.

“So you did get the invitation.” She murmured, raising her eyebrows - and, sitting opposite Madeeha, smiled falsely at Madeeha’s raised eyebrows as she did. “And there I was, assuming your Internet was down. Or your electricity. Or you'd suddenly lost the ability to use your thumbs…”

“I didn't think it was necessary to respond.” Maddie said coolly. She folded her hands elegantly in front of her on the desk - and Samara rest her chin in her hand and tried her hardest to look attentive.

“That’s weird, because I’m sure there was an RSVP on the bottom of the invitation.” Samara tutted.

“A waste of ink.”

Samara exhaled slowly, as they watched each other.

“Why are you here?” Maddie finally asked, rubbing her temples. Mara straightened in her chair, feeling… Stupid. She wished she knew. “You have everything you could want in New York, I’ve made sure of that-”

“It’s weird, because it’s like you think you’ve spent enough time with me to know what I want-”

“Don’t be juvenile, Samara.” Madeeha snapped. Mara raised her eyebrows. The Ice Bitch was getting sarky! A human really did exist in there! What next? Acknowledgement of human feelings? Or, the unthinkable - a pulse? “You chose to leave London-”

“I chose myself.” Samara corrected softly. This had been a stupid, stupid, stupid idea… And yet, her feet were refusing to carry her out of there. Instead, she actually leant forward. What did she have, a death wish? “And I did that, because even as a stupid little kid, I knew that you never would.”

Madeeha’s eyes narrowed for a second - and stupidly, Samara actually felt a spring of hope. Maybe this was it. Maybe this was what it would take for her to burst, for them to just… Be honest -

“Well, clearly my parenting, whether you agree with it or not, did you well.” Madeeha smirked, tossing back her hair. It was short now, in a choppy bob cut. It suited her. Samara hated it. “I mean, your pathological need for attention managed to help you trap one of the richest heirs on Forbes.”

Underneath the table, out of Madeeha’s line of sight, Mara dug her nails into the flesh of her hand.

“Did all of your years in inheritance law give you that little nugget, or a petty Google search?” Mara asked, struggling to hide her gritted teeth. God, she was an idiot. She was an idiot, to want to be in the same room as this horrible woman, to acknowledge that this was the witch with which she shared significant DNA. “And anyway, he’s more than just a faceless heir on a list.”

“You’d be sensible to sign a pre-nup. For his sake, of course.” Madeeha continued coolly. Samara's face hardened - though if it did any more, her face would turn into marble. “As you know, it’s not my area of expertise, but I could refer you-”

“I want to know who my dad is.”

Whoa. Mara hadn’t seen that coming. That was almost as much of a shock as the whole mother thing.

… But it was better than actually being there solely for approval.

It also gave Samara a pleasant little kick of joy, at seeing Madeeha’s expression actually flash human for a second. Just a second, of course - anything longer and time itself may have split in half and cause a black hole or something -,  but it was still than Mara had ever managed before.

“That’s none of your business.” Madeeha said tightly. Samara let out one, disbelieving laugh before she could stop herself. “What do you want from him that you don’t already have? Money? A roof over your head-”

“Try genuine parental affection, a lack of self-loathing from sharing a significant amount of DNA with someone who seems to have the symptoms of a sociopath-”

“Maybe if you’d actually gone to medical school, I would pay attention to your opinion-”

“He’s my father. Whoever he is. And I’m getting married, and I’m guessing he’d like to know.” Samara said seriously, not quite knowing… Where her sudden maturity was coming from, but deciding to run with it. Just to stand by her convictions, if nothing else. Maybe this is what people meant when they said she was stubborn. “Also, it kind of is my business.” Mara tilted her head slightly. “Kinda became my business when you dropped your panties and fall pregnant, ruining both of our lives.”

The small, fake smile that Samara sent Madeeha’s way made Madeeha’s lips purse in fury; and consequently caused that fake smile to quickly become genuine, at scoring another hit.

There were a few, tense seconds of silence. Mara relished in them.

“You didn't come all of this way to embarrass yourself.” Madeeha finally said. Mara frowned, pretending to think about it. “And we are carrying on as we’ve always been - we're not discussing your father.”

It wasn't what she said - it was the way she said it.

Of course her witch of an incubator wasn't going to readily admit who Samara’s father was. Mara knew Madeeha was proud, and the guy who had been smart enough to run in the opposite direction at creating offspring with possibly the Devil incarnate? Understandable, even if it not… Jealousy-inducing. If Mara had been able to escape from the womb… She would have.

Before Mara had even seen said it, she'd known it couldn't happen. It wasn't going to be something that a couple of quick snipes was going to achieve. Then again, Mara hadn't exactly determined a goal for her visit beyond not being sick out of her nose, so… Maybe she was getting ahead of herself.

One thing Samara definitely hadn't expected, though? Was the look of fear on Madeeha’s face as she'd spoken.

It was well-hidden. In fact, if Mara hadn't been attending AP Deduction with Danyal Zafar (Case Study Divvy Kapoor), maybe she would have hesitated. After all, it wasn't like she knew the psycho-bitch from across the table well enough to be sure - and that applied to all of her personalities. Madeeha Kayani, Madeleine Kay…

But she saw it. The subtle gulp, the tension in her fingers - and the way her eyes had darted away from Samara’s and behind the -

Maddie.

It hit Samara like she'd just been back-handed into a goddamn wall. Just like that. Out of nowhere. Like she'd been sitting there, in movie freeze-frame, and all of a sudden - boom! Music, lights, camera, action!

“… No.” Mara muttered, following Madeeha’s gaze… To the man in the business suit, Samara’s guide, hovering on the other side of the glass door.

And just in case Samara was unsure? Just in case that little part of her that wanted to be proven wrong, t have a proper mother, was clouding her judgement? Samara looked back to Madeeha.

And Maddie, as that… Stranger, that random stranger Samara had just met, by chance, by accident, had called her - her eyes widened, as she realised Samara had followed her unconscious, guilty as fuck gaze.

“You're messing, right?” Samara breathed, staring at Madeeha… Incredulously. No. No. This was not - this was not how this was happening. No! How was it that this… Nightmare of a planet was consistently ruining every important benchmark she was meant to have? How?

Okay… Maybe not every benchmark (Samara figured she had the whole marriage thing covered), but seriously? This was it? She was actually going to find out who her father was, after actually asking… Like this? By recognising a look? This was her big moment, this?!

And, also, just, by the way - what kind of self-respecting lawyer, with their name on the firm they worked for’s fancy paper, had such a bad poker face? How was that even possible? Or did Madeleine Kay not work for her money, just sit around and deliver pneumonia in the form of ice glares whenever someone dared to oppose her? How the fuck did that work?

She shouldn’t have come. She should not have come.

As Samara looked up at the… Vile woman in front of her, she almost flinched. She could see it, she could feel it - all of Madeeha’s superiority, her arrogance, her power, draining from her in front of Samara’s very eyes… And being pulled to her, like some kind of magnetic force. For the first time ever, it was Madeeha who looked wary and scared and uncertain.

… And maybe if Samara had been a better person, maybe if she’d been taught compassion and a little bit of empathy, the pity she felt for Madeeha would have been enough for her to let it go. To just… Silently, humbly accept Madeeha’s first defeat and let it be. She could have been the better person.

But her mother had taught her better than that. Or, well, you know, worse.

You didn’t help someone up when they fell. You kicked them while they were down, just to prove you were a stone-cold bitch.

And Madeeha, knowing the hard expression that suddenly graced Samara’s otherwise soft, open one, could only watch on in panic.

“Samara, don’t you dare-” Madeeha tried to warn - but it was too late. She wasn’t in control anymore.

With a cool, calm twist of her head, Mara turned to face the… Dude standing outside of the door - and, upon making eye contact, motioned with two fingers for him to step inside. Happily, he did.

“Yes, ladies?”

As soon as he spoke, the glass door shutting softly behind him, Samara’s heart suddenly began to stutter, loudly and obnoxiously inside of her throat. Was this it? Was this honestly it? She thought she would have… Known. That’s what she’d always imagined. That finally, after meeting the father that Madeeha had always tried to keep secret from her, when Samara finally saw him… She’d know.

Could it be him? What if she was wrong? Could she afford to be? Could she afford to not trust herself now?

Although Madeeha opened her mouth to speak, no words came out - instead, it was Samara’s cool, pleasant voice that filled the room. It was only Madeeha who knew it was dripping with malice.

“So, how long have you and my mother been working together?”

Stunned silence.

At first, in that initial split second after having spoken, Samara felt an almost overwhelming sense of satisfaction. It felt warm and smug and triumphant. Madeeha, Madeleine, whatever, wanted to keep secrets? Well, fuck that, thank you very much. Samara was here to blow them the fuck up.

But that split second passed and, torn in a whirlwind of emotion, Samara suddenly felt embarrassed and ashamed - a feeling that intensified as she saw… Dude’s expression, stunned and wide-eyed.

Why she felt embarrassed and ashamed was the dumbest part. Why was she berating herself for not being the better person? She was sick of it. Sick of going quiet, sick of hiding, sick of pretending it was all of her choice when it wasn’t, when she’d never agreed to being Madeeha’s dirty little secret. It wasn’t her own fault that she existed. It was Madeeha’s, and possibly this man’s -

Oh no. Was this it? The first thing she’d ever say, ever do, in front of her father?

… Be a total asshole, just like her mother?

Great. Awesome. Another reason for Samara to feel completely shitty.

It was Dude who broke the silence.

“… Mother?” He repeated faintly… Before looking to Madeeha, with wide eyes.

It was like Samara had been slapped. Because the way he’d spoken… She didn’t need to doubt her suspicions anymore.

For the first time in her life, she was standing in a room with both of her parents.

… This has been a mistake. Oh, Jesus, this had been such a huge, mind-altering, apocalyptic, colossal mistake.

This was real. This was… Happening, this was real, and this was not the perfect, cinematic picture Samara had imagined in her head as a kid. This was messy and brutal and fucking random and… And this man, this stranger’s face, was stunned and horrified and bewildered in comparison to the expression of guilt and fury on Madeeha’s.

She shouldn't have come. Whatever she thought she'd been trying to do, whatever demons she thought she'd been chasing down… Samara had been more than wrong, she had been downright stupid.

In a way, Mara almost blamed herself for the origami-level bullshit unfolding before her. What had she come for? Not to really find out who her father was, she hadn't prepared herself for that. She'd said it almost… Tongue in cheek, to get under Madeeha’s skin, to remind herself of why she couldn't expect anything from Madeeha in the first place.

What had she been thinking, to just… Turn up? What was she trying to prove? Trying to say? Goodbye, before her plan with Danyal meant she silently disappeared into a future of her own making, off’ve everybody's radar? Well, in that case, Samara had really fucked herself over. All she'd done was tie herself to Madeeha more, rely on Madeeha more… Make any relationship Samara decided to have - if, if she wanted to have one - with this stranger, entirely dependent on the Satanic offering that was Madeleine Kay.

Samara had thought about this moment so many times. Imagined it, because, deep down, she’d never really expected to find out. Life didn’t work that way. People didn’t always find answers. People did live their lives alone, no matter how much they hoped for otherwise. She wasn’t exempt from that just because she wanted to be.

But the moment was here. And it was sudden and random and - and that was all Samara could think about, how random it all was. Unexpected. How many times had she considered coming to see Madeeha’s new offices? Heard her talk about work, even before leaving for New York - or rather, being run out of London?

What if Madeeha was right? What if this guy didn’t have any interest in Samara? What, he’d been working with Madeeha for all of these years, knew her well enough to call her Maddie (then again… If he was her father, Mara supposed he knew Madeeha very well. Biblically well)… And not once had he worked out that she had a child?

Either Madeeha really hated her that much, or this guy was wilfully naive.

She just felt… Numb. Empty. Unaffected, which was… Pretty insane, given what was happening.

The only comprehensible thought in Samara’s mind, however, only made it worse - because she hadn't expected this. Mara had not expected this! Even if a part of her had dared to hope, that part of her that somehow had magically asked… Not once had she ever entertained the thought, the possibility, not once, that she'd have an answer. That this would be happening. Even a few seconds ago, antagonising Madeeha - that was all it had been! Antagonising her! Mara had never expected…

Okay, that fear of being sick? Not such a fear anymore.

More of an expectation.

Mara wasn't sure how long they all sat (or stood, in the case of her… of Dude) there for, staring at one another. Stunned at Mara’s brazenness. Christ on a stick, she was stunned, and she'd said it.

“I have to go.” She breathed, rising to her feet - but three things happened at once.

Both Madeeha and… Dude spoke at the same time, and, accidentally in stepping towards Madeeha’s desk, Samara found her exit obstructed by this stranger, this random stranger, who, somehow… Might be her father.

“Samara, you are not going anywhere-” Madeeha said through gritted teeth, as, with wide, bewildered eyes… Business Suit (at this rate, Samara was going to run out of tag names) asked the question that immediately commanded a heavy silence.

“Who’s the father?”

Mara squeezed her eyes shut for a moment, as reality hit her. This was happening. This was happening - even though it didn’t feel like it was, it didn’t feel real at all, she felt like she’d fallen into the goddamn Twilight zone - and it was real. She was visiting her mother - and probably for validation, and probably because she felt alone and scared about next week. It was pathetic. She’d come to Madeeha’s office, for the first time… Ever and just like that - she was going to get an answer?

She didn’t even know where to start. How could it be this easy? How was this not a special moment - did special moments not exist?

Realising Madeeha didn’t plan on replying anytime soon, Samara cleared her throat.

“That would be you.” She managed to say, her voice coming out... Hoarser than she’d expected. Dude just kept looking at her like a deer in headlights. “If you slept with her twenty or so years ago, which, judging by your expression… You did.”

It took every ounce of her self-control to try and control the sudden, super embarrassing and overwhelming urge to cry.

And then Dude turned to Madeeha and said something that broke whatever little part Samara thought she had left of her heart.

“I thought you got rid of it?”

Samara’s eyes closed in defeat.

She took that one second; that one, brief second, to feel the rejection, to feel all of her hopes dashed once again. To feel like a lost little kid, pathetic and vulnerable and unable to protect herself, desperate for a stupid fucking dream of a happy little family to come true.

One second. One.

And then, before Madeeha could say whatever smug comment her expression clearly showed was coming, Samara stared them both down and straightened her shoulders.

“I’m sensing you both have a lot of catching up to do.” She said calmly - and Samara was so proud of herself for keeping her voice even and cold, that she almost burst into tears right there. “I’ll leave you both to it.” She rose to her feet, hoping that nobody could see how her legs were shaking, and headed for the door.

“So that’s what you came for?” Madeeha scoffed, glaring holes into her head. Samara paused at the door, her face turned away from them both - her parents, Jesus Christ -, and sighed silently to herself. “Are you happy now? Convinced?”

Samara ground her teeth together so hard, her jaw hurt.

“No.” She finally replied, turning to face her with a fake, sunny smile. “No, I came to make sure that I wasn’t doing the wrong thing by not having labelled seats for the bride’s parents. Mission accomplished.”

Samara tried not to shake her head as Dude stared at her, open-mouthed, apparently lost at the word bride.

“Have a nice life.” Samara told them both seriously - before exiting from Madeeha’s office.

Every step was a struggle.

Samara refused to cry where she could be seen - not in this stupid corridor, with its rows and rows of glass offices. But her hands began to shake violently as soon as she was out of Madeeha’s sight, and she had to blink back tears.

This was what she’d waited for. Her whole life, this is what she’d hinged on - the possibility that she had a father out there, one who didn’t know her, but would love her and care and give a shit when nobody else had.

And for what? She’d waited almost her entire life for this moment, and for what?

As the lift doors closed in front of her, Mara watched her reflection - and, seeing her eyes begin to glisten slightly and her bottom lip begin to tremble, Mara forced herself to become composed.

“No.” She said shakily, staring down her own reflection. She placed a finger carefully under each eye. She wasn’t going to cry. She was not going to cry. Madeeha could watch the CCTV later and eat her heart out and how completely careless Mara was going to seem on that stupid camera. “Grow the fuck up. People suck. You’re fine. Grow the fuck up.”

As the lift slowly began to fill with each floor, she kept repeating that mantra - grow the fuck up, people suck, grow the fuck up -, digging her nails into the back of her leg to keep herself focused.

She made it through the ride down to reception. Past the receptionist, with a polite smile. Out of the building, and then down an easily ignored turning that led into an alleyway filled with bins, a man in a neon vest on the far end emptying one out.

Mara hovered awkwardly, waiting for him to leave. He can't have taken more than a few minutes - but to Mara, it felt like centuries, her feelings swarming in an uncomfortable mess in her throat that was beginning to make her feel nauseous.

The man left.

At first, Mara was stupid enough to think the feeling had passed - she was calm, uncaring almost. Maybe she’d been… Dramatising, just caught up in the shock of it all, and now it had passed. She’d been silly to think she needed a moment to hide. She was fine.

But then she heard it in her head again - I thought you got rid of it?

It had been so… Callous. Cruel. Incredulous, like Mara growing up to be a person was the fucked option. Like she was some kind of office printing error, that Dude couldn’t understand happening so easily, because it was so stupid.

Mara leant against the building behind her - and, sighing in defeat, felt her face crumple.

At first, it was… Difficult, almost. Allowing herself to let go. She was so good at keeping her emotions in check - and she finally felt months’ worth of pretending take its toll, as she instinctively fought the emotional release she needed.

“You’re such a child.” She muttered to herself - and then stopped, her hand halfway up to her face, as she realised what she’d just said.

Mara took deep breaths, bracing herself so that her hands were on her knees. Her eyes felt… Wet and as much as Mara tried to blink the tears away, they were too heavy to ignore - and before she could help it, as much as she didn’t want to, Mara felt her face crumple.

It was not graceful and it was not quiet. The more Mara tried to hold it all in, hold it together, the less it worked; she was crying freely now, and loudly, gasping for air and barely able to stand as her body shook - alternating between loud gasps for breath and silent, violent sobs.

"Grow the fuck up, grow the fuck - up-” She tried to tell herself - but she couldn’t stop, her mind angry at her own stupidity. He didn’t want you. They never wanted you. How could you be so stupid to think anyone would? You’re meant to know better. You should have known better…

Mara shook her head, cupping her hand over her mouth as her body ached, still convulsing. Her hands trembled - and it took three tries to remove her phone from her pocket, and another two before she heard the dialling tone.

She closed her eyes, focusing on the familiar sound, and tried to even out her breathing. With every deep breath, she seemed to… Hiccup - her breath being caught in her tears, her chest heaving and stuttering as she hastily tried to dry her already-swelling eyes.

It went to voicemail. Mara tried to sound as normal as possible - or, at least, not so totally pathetic.

“Uhm, hi, sorry, I know we said we weren’t going to talk, but I just wanted to see how you-” Mara stopped, closing her eyes. What was she doing? Why was she doing it? She shouldn’t be talking to anyone. Certainly not him.

But he was the only one she could tell - and, considering the amount of work she’d put into what was essentially going to be his relationship with someone else, she decided she was allowed… His time. What she had left of it, anyway.

“Actually, I’m lying.” Mara confessed - squeezing her eyes shut as her voice began to wobble slightly.  “I… I'm in London, in secret, because I came to visit my total bitch of a mother-” Mara shook her head, sniffling and rolling her eyes heavenward. What a stupid mistake that had been. “- and I don’t know why I did, I guess it was something to do with the wedding-” Mara cringed. Shut up. “- anyway, I, um, I just-” Breathe. Speak. It’s not that hard. “… I think I just met my father. And it wasn’t good.”

It felt awful to say. Real.

Humiliating. That this was her life, that the kind of next-level bullshit she was trying to describe, was where she came from.

“I know I’m not supposed to be calling, but, well, I didn’t have anybody else to call and honestly, I don’t think I trust anyone else - to talk about this with, I mean.” She added quickly, chewing on her lip. She kept sniffling, and Mara had a horrible feeling her mascara had run… Everywhere. “I'm sorry, I guess I just wanted to hear a friendly voice." Mara stopped - again - as she tried to compose herself, feeling… Truly alone. "I just can’t believe that he doesn’t want me either.” She said quietly - and for a second, she actually had to remind herself that there was silence on the other end, because she was leaving a message. “Anyway,” Mara said quickly, realising she sounded ridiculous. “Just… Call me back, okay? I don’t know if I’m going to want to talk about it, or even be able to later, seeing as I’m going to look like an escaped panda the moment I walk down the road with running makeup, but - I hope you’re having fun and if you can call for five minutes… Please do.”

She hung up before she could change her mind.

Sighing, and beginning to try and salvage what little makeup she’d had on in the first place, Mara tried to calm herself down. It was fine. It was all… Okay.

Mara knew Dany would call. There was a possibility he’d moan about it, or making a stupid comment about Mara having the reigns on him for the sake of whoever was nearby (… and to irritate her), but… He’d call. There was no way he wouldn’t. Even if he was a total douchebag sometimes… He had her back. He’d had to, after the past few months.

Anyway, she had things to do. Any second now, Mara expected Madeeha’s stupid PA to let her know that the house she’d grown up in - the one Ari and Pixie were planning on using for the shower - was no longer at her disposable. A petty punishment, for wanting to find out the truth… And sure enough, within moments of Mara ordering her Uber, she received a message.

Don’t even think about the house - but it was text, directly from the wonderful Maddie Kay herself.

“It’s fine.” Mara told herself, taking a deep breath… Before ducking her head down, and heading back out onto the main road to wait for her taxi. You’re fine.

*

Cypress Lounge, Bellagio Las Vegas, Nevada

Dany squinted, grimacing as he sat upright, to the sound of his phone ringing obnoxiously from somewhere beside him. He groped around blindly in the sunshine and frowned, upon seeing Samara’s name flash across the screen.

He sighed, leaning back in the deck chair he’d fallen asleep in. Surrounding him, were the remains of last night’s late night kick-off party; random bits of confetti, half-eaten trays of junk food and some of Dany’s closest friends splayed out around him, in varying degrees of mess.

Hughie was the closest - asleep and snoring softly, his face teetering on the pool’s edge; all it would take was one slight turn, and Hughie would wake up with his head underwater.

Dany turned his phone to silent as Hughie murmured, though not quite moving his head.

The screen had automatically filled with pictures of the caller, and Dany inhaled deeply as the screen transitioned to show one of his favourite pictures.

It was of the first time they’d hung out together; at a party thrown by one of Samara’s friends, thrown at a water-park. There had been a photographer, the kind Dany would have ordinarily expected at parties or clubs; and had taken a picture of the two of them in the crowd, looking ridiculous. Dany was wearing oversized pink sunglasses that took over his entire face, in a damp white T-shirt and a pair of shorts; and falling off’ve Dany’s back, her mouth round in surprise, was Samara. Her hair was loose and wet and she had round (normal-sized) sunglasses on her nose. Dany was looking up at her, amused, as he tried to catch her leg to stop her from falling - and the Dany in real-time grimaced slightly, as he saw his hand just underneath where her denim shorts stopped, his fingers clutching into the firm muscle as he tried.

We’re not meant to be talking.

A part of Dany told him to answer now, quickly, before anyone could stop him and the phone ceased to ring. She’d called first. She’d broken the rules…

But why, Dany asked himself. He was doing it so that it would help them both. So unless it was an emergency… There was no reason for Dany to answer.

They’d made a deal. They’d all but given their word.

… But what if it was an emergency?

Dany chewed on his lip as the image on the screen suddenly died - and was replaced with a small notification of a voicemail, instead.

Surely if it was such an emergency, she wouldn’t have the time to leave a voicemail…?

Dany’s stomach twisted uncomfortably, his entire body feeling uneasy at so blatantly ignoring Samara’s call; and then, he felt irritated, and began to berate himself.

They’d agreed. If it was anything serious, he would know - not have a notification for a voicemail. It was probably Mara updating him about some random detail regarding the wedding, or… Or even an accidental call! After all, what did they really have to say to each other?

They weren’t in a… Formal relationship. After the wedding, they’d have nothing to say to each other.

That decided it.

Taking a deep breath, Dany switched off his phone, slipping it into the back-pocket of his shorts before he could stop himself. He was compromising. He wouldn’t return her call - not unless she messaged him, or called him again, which would indicate it was something serious - and keep to his word… And, he thought irritably as curiosity coursed through him, I’ll check my messages at the end of the trip. Even if they hadn’t agreed to try and get into good habits for after the… Ceremony, Mara wasn’t supposed to be calling him on his stag. Especially when they both knew it was a stag for a wedding different to the ones they’d sent out invitations for.

Although a small voice in Danyal’s mind told him he was being a prat, and to pick up the phone immediately, just to know what was going on (… and maybe, maybe, just to hear her voice)… Dany was resolute. They’d agreed. And anyway, he was going to have to get used to ignoring her calls, if he… Ended up with Divya.

Dany shook his head slightly, rubbing his eyes. He felt… Gross, and immediately tried to blame the relatively comfortable poolside nap he’d just woken from.

He lay back again, staring up at the beams of light wood holding up the umbrella.

What am I doing here?

It was both stupid and useless a question, simply because Dany had an answer to both. He was at his stag. And he was there, because he had orchestrated a fake wedding to make room for a real one.

Exactly. That annoying voice told him. What am I doing here?

. . .

As the hours ticked by, Dany’s day continued; one quickly filled with shenanigans and laughter, after Raj had announced that they were set to partake in some sort of survival course out in the desert. Much to Dany’s relief… That meant leaving their phones inside. Without such a constant reminder, it was easy for Dany to no longer feel so guilty.

And in London, after curiously switching her phone on and off again to make sure her signal wasn’t being funny, Samara realised that Danyal wasn’t going to call her back.

It’s fine, she told herself. She’d already called Ari, telling her that the original venue of the bridal shower was no longer available - no further explanation than that -, but had left out the little detail of already being in the city herself. Realising there was nobody to comfort her, Mara had thought it best to give herself some… Alone time. Though so far, all she’d felt was empty. I’m fine.

Mara thought about texting Danyal; but she told herself that he was probably busy, that he probably wasn’t checking his phone, and that whenever he turned it back on, he’d call her back.

But by the time Mara was in bed in a nondescript Premier Inn, tucked away in one of the city’s many red-bricked back alleys… She wasn’t so sure.

*

The days blurred into each other.

Despite the slight mishap regarding the venue, Pixie and Ari managed to pull off a perfect bridal shower - one Mara had felt privileged to find out, was Ari’s means of thanks, for helping her “totally ridiculous, completely stupid” older brother.

And it was… Lovely, a series of events spread out over the course of four days, for Mara’s cousins and friends to join as their schedule allowed. It was almost like a holiday; one filled with all of Samara’s favourite things and the illusion of company that actually cared about Mara - as a person, for who she was.

The illusion was addictive.

It was the same for Dany, in Vegas; he was caught in a whirlwind of partying, extreme sports and paint-balling, sometimes all at once - much to the chagrin of the hotel, Mara was sure. Of course, she didn’t hear it from Dany himself. TJ and Rafi kept her posted, more TJ than anyone else, and even though Mara couldn’t blame Dany… It stung, every time she thought of how Dany had ignored her call.

It was more humiliating than anything. She’d been so desperate. It was her own fault. And anyway, she’d… Served her purpose. Created a fake relationship. What reason did they have to stay in touch? Maybe Danyal had been onto something, about not being friends after the wedding. Maybe they’d never been friends in the first place.

It wouldn’t have been the first time Mara had desperately sought out affection and imagined something that wasn’t there, would it?

It was okay, though - it was fine, really, to think that her friendship with Danyal was all… In her head. It was nothing new. And Mara didn’t have any more tears to spill - she’d done that on that first, terrible day in London, quietly crying to herself under the covers until she’d fallen asleep with swollen eyes, still occasionally checking her phone just in case Dany had called, or messaged, but she’d missed it.

It was fine. She was fine. And Dany in Vegas, with his friends and exciting activities capturing his attention, clearly was fine without her, too.

[modosphere]

Now I’m Standing Alone: A Dara Drabble

Surprise! Bet you didn’t think this was coming out tonight...

Apologies for it taking so long, but its been a long, kind of difficult and infinitely more exhausting week and this (fingers crossed) will be the hardest one to have written - so I should be better with the others!

Remember, there are other instalments to come... And like Tinkerbell, I need applause to live, so please let me know what you think (ask/submit boxes preferably, that way I can save them!) and hopefully it’ll keep the creative wheel turning for a faster follow-up ;)

Happy reading! And I hope you all like it!

Bonus: shout-outs to my returning anons (hey guys), the anons who’ve been asking after/encouraging me with this drabble and @franklyineedcoffee for entertaining the mess that was my creative process when writing this!

- gawaine xo

The Kensington Hotel South Kensington, London 2041

She looked super hot.

And that wasn’t Mara being biased - objectively speaking, she looked smoking. Better than she’d ever seen herself look. The kind of hot that warranted winking at your own reflection and taking an obnoxious amount of selfies.

It was… A shame. A shame that it would… Go to waste, she guessed? Like, yeah, okay, people were still going to witness the hotness in question - a damned honour, really -, but not enough to be… Appreciated.

The wedding tanking was more likely to be the topic of conversation, come the end of the night.

Samara thought she’d feel… More conflicted. More lost. The (supermodel) reflection in the mirror… Was a stranger. Samara Zafar, to-be. Someone who didn’t exist. Who never would.

She felt a surprising amount of pride at that reflection, and as she tilted her head slightly, Mara gave herself a small, albeit sad, smile. It had been a good run. One Hell of a performance. In an odd way, she was sad to see it over - she’d made friends, had a family. Jesus, she’d even had Danyal Zafar be the closest thing she’d ever had to a best friend and whilst that was, wow, wow, so truly fucking pathetic… That would be gone, too, in a few hours. Maybe even less than that. One thing she and Dany hadn’t planned, was the exact timeline of the evening.

Mara checked her phone for the time - the car would be arriving soon - and so, placing it back down and turning to her reflection again, Mara surveyed herself one more time for all last-minute checks.

Her wedding outfit wasn’t the most conventional, which, given the true nature of her and Dany’s relationship, Mara found funny more than anything else. Instead of the full, traditional outfit of dark red decked with gold, Mara had opted for a slightly modernised version.

Her skirt was white and decorated with red stones and gold thread, flowing elegantly from the waist and swaying slightly every time she moved; and the blouse was the opposite, a velvet, burgundy affair with long sleeves, decorated intricately at the ends with more gold thread and tiny pearls. The neck was high and the rest of the blouse plain, allowing the focus to be the heavy, layered gold necklace hanging from her collar.

All of her jewellery was like that, heavy and majestic - a large, sun-shaped ring on her hand, a matching hair piece pinned to the side of her head to hide the bobby-pins. And with Mara’s full lips, high cheekbones and straight nose all thrown into high definition by some excellent makeup artistry, and her loose, dark brown curls pushed gently to one side… Mara looked like some kind of sexy Asian medieval princess, with a twenty-first century twist. Mara snorted happily to herself. Given the Zafars’ standing as social royalty, maybe that wasn’t so shocking.

The best part of the outfit was something she couldn’t even see - the fact that the blouse was backless, aside from a small pearl clasp at the base of her neck securing it in place.

And yeah, sure, there was the option to clasp it more, but given Mara’s bra size being completely at odds with the size of her shoulders, all fully clasping it would achieve was Mara asphyxiating, and that was of no help to anyone. Anyway, it was… Sexier. It was hidden anyway, behind a curtain of Mara’s hair and then the scarf pinned over her head, white and gold like her skirt. But Mara knew it was there, and Danyal was probably going to seize when he saw it -

Samara’s smile immediately disappeared and she looked away from the mirror, blinking back sudden tears. What was she crying about? Being stupid? Running away with her vanity?

It didn’t matter how good she looked. It didn’t matter what Dany thought - she gripped the table, her black nails digging into the wood -, because he wasn’t going to see it, nobody was, because by this evening, everyone would be applauding the new Mrs Zafar and that wouldn’t be her.

Which was fine, whatever, fine. Fine. It wasn’t like… She’d never wanted to be that, that hadn’t been the plan.

What if your plan was wrong?

“Don’t you fucking dare.” Mara snapped at her reflection, pointing at it angrily. “No. Shut the fuck up. You - you made this decision, you-” Mara sighed, her eyes temporarily closing in resignation. She couldn’t look at herself for the next part. “You made it clear, you told him-”

Except had she, really? It was on odd feeling, to feel as if you knew someone - their thoughts, their intentions, the very words that were about to leave their mouth - without having proof. Without truly knowing.

That was why she hadn't entertained… It was why she’d been so abrupt with Danyal. Even if he had just been talking in hypotheticals - and that was a possibility, she didn’t know -, she couldn’t think like that. Not… Now, not so close, not when her head was in such a mess. Not when she was filled with so much doubt.

Not about the wedding. No. Of course not! How could she? She couldn’t be…

It was fear, that was all. Fear of the unknown. Fear of committing a homicide, when her aunt inevitably started gloating about her failed marriage. Fear of finally being… Free, without the consequences.

Mara had wanted that for so long. To be free, independent, able to make her own decisions, without slamming the few doors open to her closed. But now that it was here… It was weakness, probably. Or complacency. She was filled with doubt because she’d gotten so used to her gilded little cage, that anything beyond that was terrifying! It was the brainwashing.

She was fine. She was. She knew where these… Fake doubts were coming from and she was handling it, it was… Fine.

Sighing to herself, Mara leant forward in front of the mirror, checking her makeup. It was made to look like she had some sort of natural glow but, of course, this close, it looked anything but. It was all about the eyes - perfect eyebrows, perfect eyeliner, perfect eyelashes and perfectly hidden eyeshadow (from a distance). The makeup artist had told that she’d wanted Mara’s lips to look like “an overdose of pomegranates” and Mara could only assume she’d managed it, because she didn’t know what else to call the matted colour on her lips, apart from maybe attractively bruised, which… Didn’t sound alluring.

One thing Mara could appreciate for certain, was the paradox of the whole thing. The face of an innocent, glowing young bride, the outfit of a princess, a super-sexy braless outfit once her veil was removed. Talk about split personality personified.

Of course, looking like some kind of regal portrait was costing Mara… All sense of comfort. She literally felt pinned taut, and even blinking caused something to pull. The top of her head felt like some kind of bridge support, thanks to the various clothes and jewellery items pinned to her skull - and thank fuck the skirt was meant to trail slightly, because in heels, she would’ve toppled over after the first step. She was wearing white Adidas trainers underneath her skirt instead.

She was allowed to take shortcuts! After all…

“It’s not like it’s your real wedding.” Mara joked to her reflection, not sounding particularly convinced. Good to know she could rely on herself for a pep talk.

Her phone beeped - and Mara caught the message that quickly flashed onscreen. It was her uncle. He was on his way up.

I don’t know if I can do this.

Nope! No psychoanalytical bullshit today!

Jogging slowly on her tiptoes and stretching slightly, careful to make sure the weight of her scarf didn’t snap her neck in half, Samara closed her eyes and took long, slow breaths.

“You’ve got this.” She told herself, before staring at her reflection. “You have got this. Get your shit together, bitch, freedom is on the horizon.”

There was a tap at the door.

“Samara!” Her uncle called through the door. “It’s time to go!”

“Coming!” She shouted back - before staring, wide-eyed and terrified, at her reflection one last time. The next time she’d be in this room… It’d be all over. “Shit. Yes. Okay.”

She was about to enter an art gallery full of important, influential, powerful people… And lie to them. Lie to them about who she was, about being in love with her fiancee, about wanting to get married, and then lie some more by saying she was heartbroken to not marry her fiancee, after his ex stormed the stage, demanding his love and attention.

It was fine. Cool. No problemo.

… Shit.

*

Liaquat Ali Khan Airport Islamabad, Pakistan 12 Days Ago

Dany twirled the warm, white box between his fingers, staring disinterestedly at the small crowd huddled over by the Arrivals door... Before looking over to the small, ignored hallway in front of him. Still empty.

It felt like just yesterday that he’d been here with his family - and Mara’s - after the engagement. Dany’s mouth lifted into a small smile as he remembered the look on Mara’s mamaani - aunt’s - face, at seeing them suddenly jump out of the car and disappear for a few hours. Mara had told him afterwards that her cousins had said she’d almost had an aneurysm.

It was his last day in Pakistan before the wedding. Technically, it should have been the day before - but with Samara landing for her final fitting before the wedding, Dany thought it’d be… Nice. He was only travelling over the border to India; first to see how Ari’s preparations for the walimah, the after party, were going at the haveli in Punjab; and then onto to Delhi, to leave with Raj for his stag.

It was weird to think that the after-party Ari was planning would be for a different bride than the one whose name was on the invitation.

Because you’re stupid.

Dany paused, frowning slightly, and stopping his fidgeting.

Dany refused to pay much mind to the little voice in the back of his head, or the uncomfortable squirm that tended to come with it. It had been happening… Too often recently, and for no reason at all. It wasn’t worth the effort.

He glanced around again, sighing to himself. The small shop selling freshly brewed tea in the corner, the racks of picturesque post-it cards, the announcement boards, the various corridors leading off into different parts of the airport, the hallway…

The young woman walking down it towards him, a security guard at her side.

Dany quickly rose to his feet - and seeing her smug smile as she stopped where she stood, raised his eyebrows as part of their silent, secret language.

Why are you looking so pleased with yourself?

One eyebrow raised, Samara nodded to the white box. She’d had a similar one, when she’d welcomed Dany and his family during their first trip - and she was touched, if not teasing, about the sentimentality of it all.

As Dany walked towards her, he could feel her eyes scanning him from head to toe; his slim-fit, light blue trousers and matching tunic, the collar undone and the sleeves rolled to his elbows.

He didn’t understand that Samara was thinking back to when she’d been waiting for him; how she’d seen him with messier, fluffier hair from the heat just like today, but stretching and his sunglasses threatening to fall onto his nose from his forehead as he did. How she’d almost laughed at how adorable he’d looked.

But as the distance closed between them, Danyal fell back into habit - and once again, he found himself mentally acknowledging that there were prettier girls in the world than Samara Kayani. More naturally beautiful girls, better groomed girls, more fashionable girls. In fact, the women Dany usually found in his social circle were as close to aesthetically perfect as a human could be… Whereas Samara? She didn’t fall into that category.

Oh, Mara was beautiful. Anyone with eyes could see that, and that was Dany being objective. She had to be. Even with a fake bride, the famous Danyal Zafar was expected to have nothing less. But Samara’s face was riddled with imperfections - and that was what took Dany by surprise each time, because on anyone else, that was all they were. Imperfections. But on her… They weren’t.

Samara had a perfectly straight nose, cutting a side profile like a piece of art; but because of it, it was almost too perfect when seen head on, too… Proportionate. It was almost unsettling.

Her lips were full and pink, but the bottom lip was fuller, giving her a constant pout, however accidental. When she wasn’t wearing makeup - like most days she wasn’t going out, including this one  -, you could see the tiny beauty spots dotted across her face. One on the right side of her nose, near the middle, another one on her cheek on the same side. She smiled with her teeth, which were white and straight, but not perfectly straight - when Dany had once asked why, Mara had scathingly informed him that she’d never worn braces, in a way that clearly told him to shut up - and her skin, fairer than Danyal’s or any of his siblings’, easily became flushed and rosy after just a few seconds in the sun. Her eyes were wide and large and brown, framed by long and thick dark eyelashes, almost too doe-eyed for Dany to comfortably accept. Too... Innocent.

He saw these imperfections every time, analysed them, tried to see them in a new light - and always came to the same conclusion: that it was a part of Mara’s undeniable charm. Samara’s face was beautiful and glamorous, yes, but it was raw, and real, and with imperfections that made her seem more… Imperfectly perfect than her airbrushed counterparts.

But it didn’t mean that Danyal understood it - how she could exude that, so effortlessly. At first, he’d studied it, but now, it was just… There. It was all he saw. One look at Samara’s face and you knew her and, if you already did, you truly knew her. She made you feel safe and happy and seemed like the most pleasant and loveable person in the world… Until she opened her mouth and sassed you into next week, oftentimes doing so in a way that had you smile at being roasted more than anything else.

He could see it now, as she stood in front of him; in jeans and a tunic covered in funky geometric patterns in bright colours, her hair tied into a ponytail and her sunglasses propped on her forehead. It was… Effortless. But the security guard holding her bag still looked smitten, stealing glances at her as if she were a painting instead of a person.

It wasn’t creepy, the security guard’s look - it was just… Filled with awe.

When Samara wanted to be, she was a pretty friendly person.

Dany’s expression became a mix of amused and confused as Mara’s expression immediately became arrogant, upon facing him.

“Why’s your nose up in the air?” He asked in Urdu, laughing slightly. Mara pretended to toss her hair back dramatically.

“Because clearly I’m such an important, glamorous, special person that I’ve resurrected chivalry from the dead, to have one guard offering to carry my bags and you bringing me food.” Mara grinned.

With a sigh, Dany turned to the security guard.

“Thank you.” He nodded, shaking his hand - and, Samara knew, slipping him a tip with it. The guard nodded, handing over Samara’s duffel… Before offering Samara a polite, but happy smile, before leaving. Samara waved. “Your friend?” Dany asked dryly.

“Everyone is my friend, with the exception of you.” She said happily, plucking the white box from his hands. She thought for a moment. “And possibly your mother.”

Dany decided to ignore that last comment.

“Wait a second,” Dany hesitated, as Samara began to walk towards the main doors. He looked around. “Where’s your uncle?”

Dany motioned for her handbag - which Samara dutifully handed over -, but Dany’s eyes narrowed in suspicion as she avoided his eyes, fidgeting with the box. In a way, Dany was glad she hadn’t opened it yet - inside was one of Mara’s favourite desserts, jalebi, a dessert made of sugar, flour and light spice that presented itself as bright orange, oddly shaped pretzels. Samara was obsessed. Once the box was open, he was probably going to be ignored until she realised she’d inhaled it all.

Realising Samara’s lack of an answer was an answer in itself, Dany began to mutter under his breath, the two of them resuming walking.

“He promised you.” Dany said irritably. Beside him, Samara shrugged, prying open the box. “You’re getting married in a few weeks-”

“As far as he knows.” Samara muttered, breaking off a small piece of jalebi.

“Exactly.” Dany huffed. Upon reaching the front doors, the warm Pakistani air hit them, humid and smelling of petrol - and Samara followed, as Dany quickly found the Awans’ chauffeur in the crowd. “He said this was the time you were going to spend together - hi -”

Mara offered the chauffeur a polite smile, waiting until he’d taken her bags from Dany and they were following him out to the car. Then, deliberately quietly in the hopes her voice would be lost under the loud traffic of the car park -

“He bought me jewellery instead.”

Dany paused in the street, his eyes narrowing… And even though Mara rolled her eyes at his melodrama, she smiled slightly. It wasn’t shocking that Danyal had a protective streak - Mara had seen enough of him with his siblings and Raj -, but it could still be… Surprising, when aimed at her. Even if she’d seen it before.

“Oh, relax.” She sighed, slipping her hand underneath Dany’s arm. Although disgruntled… Dany sighed, allowing her to lead him to the car. She fed herself with the hand tucked under his arm. “It was pretty jewellery and Mamaani probably had heart failure when she saw it-”

Dany said nothing, removing Samara’s arm out from under his as they crossed the road. His hand hovered protectively over the small of her back instead as they crossed and, upon reaching the car, slipped easily into it, the doors already open for them.

Dany tried to… Shake it off. It wasn’t Samara’s fault that her uncle was a weak asshole and her aunt an insecure cow. Dany thought it was ridiculous, and stupid, and unfair that Samara’s family treated her like some kind of… Leper, especially when she and her cousins were so close - but clearly, it wasn’t something Samara wanted to discuss, so Dany shut up for the sake of her mood.

“Honestly, you need to stop being so sensitive.” Samara sighed - but happily, Dany noted, as he only grunted in response. Dany nodded as the chauffeur shut the door behind them. “And anyway, it’s probably a good thing - we need to… Talk strategy, one more time…” Dany raised an eyebrow as Mara hesitated. “You know, before.”

Danyal looked down, grimacing slightly as his stomach… Did that thing again.

… Whatever. Mara was right. They had to focus - if it all didn’t go to plan next week, all of their planning, months and months of lying… It would all be for nothing.

Dany flexed his fingers as his stomach twisted even harder than before.

“That’s why I brought you a snack, I guessed we’d have work to do.” Dany mumbled. Once the driver was in the car, Samara happily offered the box - and although he declined, he smiled warmly at Mara as he shook his head. The charm offensive wins again. Dany sighed to himself. Considering this was meant to be a pleasant reunion, he suddenly just felt… Tired. “I thought we’d visit the office-” He began - only to stop and raise an eyebrow, upon finding Samara struggling to push her sunglasses from her nose onto her forehead without using her sticky fingers. Apparently, they’d fallen.

It was like watching a bunny trying to put on a hat.

Pointedly, Dany removed the glasses from her nose and gently placed them atop her head. “You okay there?” He asked sarcastically.

Mara simply shot him a happy smile, before nodding. As ridiculous as she was… Dany couldn’t help his smile back.

“You know,” She said conversationally, between bites. “I can’t believe this is our final trip to the office? I mean… It’s here, you know?”

His smile faded.

They glanced at each other then, and for a moment, Dany thought he saw - well, something he surely couldn’t identify, because that would mean acknowledging it within himself. No, he was just being… Sentimental. Pakistan had that effect on him - although culturally there was often little difference, owing to the drastic differences in population, Pakistan was always… Quieter. More peaceful.

“I hadn’t thought about it like that.” Dany said honestly. “Our last trip to the office.” He repeated quietly.

“I meant the wedding, too, but… Yeah.” Mara mumbled.

There were a few seconds of silence.

“So, where is everyone?” Mara said quickly. She hated silence. She and Dany… They didn’t do silence.

“Ari’s still in India with Raj, making sure the walimah stuff is all ready. She’s flying down tonight and then I’ll take the jet back to meet Raj in Delhi.” Dany blinked as Samara snorted quietly. Suspicion immediately coursed through him. Was she unhappy about his stag plans? He’d cleared them with her beforehand, they’d agreed it was a good idea… “What was that for?”

Samara shrugged. “What?”

Dany fought the urge to roll his eyes. He knew her better than that.

“The-” Dany did a casual imitation of the look of judgement that had briefly passed across Samara’s face. “- that.”

“Nothing.” Dany knew she was lying. He knew her, remember? Not just at face value. Plus, judging by the all-too-innocent lilt of her voice… Mara wasn’t going to be able to keep her opinion to herself for much longer. “I just… I hope Divvy appreciates all of the effort Raj and your sister are going through.” She shrugged, before frowning. Dany stared, unsure of what to say. When had Divya become a part of their conversation? “God. Have you actually worked out a way to warn Raj yet, or are you still going with just hoping to dodge his punches until he tires out when the shit hits the fan?”

Dany knew she was just trying to distract him - but it worked, and Dany grimaced at the thought of yet another difficult decision. He was Aman Zafar’s firstborn. He already had a whole lifetime of difficult decisions to make.

“Dodging punches.” He said reluctantly. They were peeling out of the airport car-park now, and if it weren’t for the bumper-to-bumper traffic and rising fumes, Dany would have cracked open a window. The air in the car felt thick and heavy. “Anyway - I… Have time. They’re all too busy with their conspiracy theories.”

A thickness that suddenly felt… Uncomfortable, as Samara laughed - before beaming at him with a carefree smile.

Dany fidgeted with his collar, ducking his head down to hide how Samara’s smile was infectious - and how confused he felt at being so quickly infected. Wow. He really was being sentimental. If he’d realised Islamabad was going to have such a profound effect on his ability to think logically, he would have left yesterday.

“Right.” Samara nodded, oblivious to Dany’s sudden discomfort. She didn’t need to ask who they was - she already knew; Pixie (because once Mara had found out Annie hated that nickname, was she ever really going to call her anything else?), Zarina and Raj. “That we’re secretly falling in love and the stars are aligning and that everything will work out happily ever after in the end?”

Dany hummed, making Samara laugh some more. It was a nice, tinkling sound.

“I think you and your ex have a different happy ending in mind.” She remarked, shaking her head as she returned to the box for some more jalebi.

It wasn’t the first time they’d joked about the others’ obsession with their romantic futures, because it was funny, that they were all so desperate for fiction to become fact. Maybe even a little concerning, given how Samara and Danyal didn’t hide how difficult pretending to be a couple could be for them.

But this time… Although Dany pulled the right muscles and had made the correct noise, it wasn’t quite as hilarious as it had seemed before.

Maybe after so long, the novelty had worn off. After all, from what Danyal could gather, the basis of Pixie, Ari and Raj’s argument was that Dany and Mara hadn’t been yelling at each other quite as much. The knowledge that they all held such low standards was… Depressing.

“It’s like they don’t hear me when I tell them how unhinged you are.” Dany said dryly, a second too late for it to be truly natural. Thankfully, Samara didn’t notice - she was eyeing up the inside of the jalebi box again, finding her next chosen piece. “What, no comeback? You’re going soft-”

“No.” Samara pointed warningly, making Dany grin. “I’m just too hungry to deal with your bullshit.”

“You always say that.”

“Well, after next week, you won’t need to hear it.”

… It were as if they tried to ignore the wedding, the more it appeared - and the more it did, the more Dany wanted to throw something at its mere mention. He knew Samara wasn’t trying to be abrasive, he did - as soon as she’d spoken, it was like she’d realised what she’d said. He knew that. But right now, right here, why couldn’t they just… Be normal? Spend time together? Friends did that. Friends spent time together.

And yes, in the past, Dany knew he’d been reluctant to use that term - but it was true. What else could she be? For him to know her so well, watch her so carefully? They were friends. In fact, it was likely that Mara was one of Dany’s… Better friends. She’d been the first person he’d spoken to when everything had started with Tara; and even now, Mara was civil with Tara for his sake during wedding preparations.

Fake fiancee, yes. Fake friend? Dany didn’t think so.

He just wanted to enjoy it. The two of them, being friends, without… Anything else. Why couldn’t he just be with his friend?

There was more silence. Danyal’s smile had faded, again, at the mention of the wedding - and Mara had suddenly found herself unable to look in his direction.

Dany needed to change the subject.

“You know, I don’t think you’ve ever told me your opinion on Divya.” Dany said her name slowly and deliberately, choosing to ignore how Samara immediately rolled her eyes. She refused to call Divya anything other than Divvy, no matter what Dany said - or where they were. Of course, Divya hadn’t been the first thing he would’ve chosen as a conversation starter… But, Dany realised, it was the truth. Samara, the extremely opinionated Samara, had never actually… Shared her thoughts on Dany’s ex. Bizarre, when one considered her role in her and Dany’s supposed reunion. “I mean, yes, you’ve given me non-verbal indications - like that-”

“You don’t need my opinion.” Mara stated clearly, sudden very business-like. Dany raised his eyebrows in surprise. “And I’m pretty sure you don’t really want it, so… Let’s not.”

Dany frowned, intrigued. Samara wasn’t even looking at him - and, again, Dany knew what that meant: that she was upset, very upset. You could always tell when her lips jutted out more - they went from natural pout to just… Accidental pout.

… But why?

“Why not?” He asked curiously - and, not giving it a second thought, plucked the small piece of jalebi that had been headed towards Mara’s mouth, and placed it in his own. It was a deliberately irritating gesture - one to distract Samara from whatever surge of negative feeling she was trying to fight against -, but also entirely natural for Dany to do. Regardless, Mara’s mouth fell open at his audacity. “You’re helping us get back together-”

Their eyes widened as they realised what he'd just said - and Mara, horrified at his carelessness, looked over to the driver… Who was obliviously humming along to the radio.

“How have you not told everyone our entire plan yet?” Mara asked incredulously. Dany sighed in relief. “Do you have no filter? You’re like a child-”

“Anyway - you’re… Helping out,” Dany said pointedly. Mara shook her head. He knew what she was thinking - what use was it being careful now? “- so you must have an opinion. I want to hear it.”

“And because His Highness so commands, we must all respond.” Mara muttered, rolling her eyes… But Dany hid his triumphant smirk as she shifted slightly in her seat to face him better. “Okay, first of all-” She snatched back the piece of jalebi, half of it gone to Dany’s mouth. The box, filled with whole other fresh pieces in her lap, lay ignored. “- I’m not a goddamn charity, and I’m not Cupid. I’m doing this for myself, your… Relationship,” If the word sounded dirty, it felt even worse, judging by Samara’s expression. Her voice dropped, protected from the driver by the upbeat item song he was listening to on the radio. “- is an added bonus and secondly,” She elbowed him gently. “You can want my opinion all you like, Danu, but it does happen to be one of the rare things your surname doesn’t make you entitled to.”

Dany didn’t react to the jibe about his surname - Mara made comments like that much too often for him to care. Plus, she got on with his father way too much for her to actually mean it.

No, it was the nickname - Danu - that made him grimace.

“I hate when you call me that.” He said, frowning. “You know only my Dad calls me that.”

“A, that was the point of me saying it, and B, since when did you hate it?” Mara snorted, pulling a fresh piece of jalebi from the box and biting into it.

Dany watched as a small piece fell, which she barely caught before it fell down her blouse and into a bra. Neither one of them hesitated - as soon as it was caught, Mara threw it, Dany catching it easily with his mouth.

“Six.” She said proudly. They kept a running score. Mara never warned him of when she was going to throw food, or what - their last running score had been twelve. They’d been defeated by a cherry tomato bouncing off’ve Dany’s nose and had had to start again.

Dany let the stickiness of the sugar melt on his tongue before speaking again.

“It’s different when you say it.” He told her. “I’ve had your tongue in my mouth-”

Mara stared at him in disbelief as Dany’s eyes went round again… And, as Dany turned to check on the driver, watched as he hastily glanced away upon catching Dany’s eye in the rear-view mirror. The radio station had been between songs.

“It’s fine, we’re engaged.” Dany shrugged, seeing Samara cringe. Dany suddenly smiled wickedly. “And I’ve also had Divya’s tongue in my mouth-” At least this time, he was quieter.

Not that it made a difference.

“That’s disgusting, Danyal-”

Dany placed a hand under his chin and stared at his fiancee with full, cheeky attention.

“Tell me how you feel about that.” He grinned, reverting out of his - Mara hated to admit it - perfect Urdu accent, into English.

It was because he knew he could be more irritating in English, she knew.

“You know my feelings about it!” She replied, in English too, staring at him with exasperation.

“But not why.” He persisted.

For a split second, it felt like their eyes lingered one each other’s for… Perhaps a bit more than they should have.

But then Samara looked away, rolling his eyes, and Dany rubbed his. He was probably just seeing things. It was so easy to irritate your eyes in this heat.

Realising she wasn't planning on sharing with the class anytime soon, Dany stole the new, larger piece of jalebi Mara had been holding - knowing exactly what buttons to press.

“Will you stop-” She snapped, going to elbow Dany in the ribs. He laughed, shifting in his seat and barely avoiding contact. “And I - fine, fine. Are you sure about this?”

It took him a second to respond - he’d been focused on the subtle, rosy flush making its way up Samara’s cheeks, thanks to the humidity; but they were on the motorway now, so to crack open the window meant conversational death. Dany considered putting on the air conditioning, but it always made her sneeze - and Dany was too interested in Samara’s answer to allow for any interruptions.

“Yes, I’m sure. What’s there to be sure about?” He shrugged.

Samara’s look of warning clearly indicated there was something.

It wasn’t like they’d never discussed Divya before. They had - at great length, in fact… Though, retrospectively, it had been Dany who had done the talking and Mara almost exclusively the listening.

Listening and pretending not to count to one hundred in her head, in a bid to stay calm.

Mara’s views on Divvy Kapoor were… Strong, to say the least. When Danyal had first recounted the tale of how he’d lost his virginity, and with an odd sort of fondness, Samara had found it a struggle to not throw herself (… or him) out of the nearest window, her reaction had been that… Visceral. He’d been fifteen, apparently.

… Her nails dug into the palm of her hands even thinking about it, sticky fingers and all.

“I think…” Dany was watching her with undivided attention and an odd sort of naivety that Mara didn’t want to ruin. At least, not as… Painfully as she usually might. She wanted to choose her words carefully, but she had to be honest. It had started off as a necessity - there were too many people desperate to find something wrong with their relationship, they couldn’t afford to keep secrets from one another -, but now it was habit. And one Samara quite liked.

After all, they already knew pretty much everything about each other, and they definitely weren’t in positions to judge. It was… Nice, to be able to talk to somebody like that. And with this being their last trip together in Pakistan… And Dany giving her the courtesy of asking her opinion, as someone whose opinion he was interested in (and Dany was interested in very few opinions, beyond those of his family)… She wanted to do it properly. Kindly. For once.

“I think,” Samara began again. Dany nodded, waiting. “I think she’s a cradle-snatching piece of shit who continues to emotionally manipulate you into becoming a part of this family unit she’s convinced herself she doesn’t have, even though - and partly because - you’re part of that unit anyway.”

Shit. It had just rolled off the tongue, too.

… Well, she’d tried to be kind. Trying was the important thing, right?

Just because she found anything to do with Divya vaguely - nope, she was being kind again, she meant extraordinarily - pathetic, did not mean Samara didn’t listen. For some bizarro reason that Mara couldn’t understand, Divya felt… Resentful, at being the only adopted member of her family; and because of it, rejected Dany’s Uncle Jai and Aunt Lucky as her parents, convinced they saw her as some kind of charity case. She hated being a Kapoor, because she didn’t think she was one - not when it was a name she’d gained through adoption.

Now, the latter at least, Samara could have understood. It was a sick twist of irony that Samara knew that feeling by being - or pretending to be with - Danyal. She was a Zafar by extension, formalities pending, and treated as such. Even then, Samara’s understanding was limited. The Zafars weren’t her family, whereas Jai, Lucky and Raj Kapoor were Divvy’s - not to mention that Raj wasn’t even Lucky’s, but saw her as a mother anyway. Divya was a part of the Kapoor family unit. Dany had made that crystal clear, and she’d seen it herself. Samara, on the other hand, was just Danyal’s fake fiancee.

And to make matters worse? Divya deliberately kept her resentment away from public life, so that she could flout her family’s connections constantly - to make movies, for promotion, for her social life. That was - partly - why Samara found her so intolerable; and Mara was definitely more of a make pizza, not war kind of girl. Divvy Kapoor seemed almost inherently greedy, and used her insecurities to treat her family (and associated family members, Mara’s fiancee included) badly, but still demand more of them. As if they owed her something.

Mara simply couldn’t fathom it. If you felt like you didn’t belong, and didn’t want to feel like a charity case… Why make yourself one? Why fall to that low level of self-victimisation, something Samara couldn’t stand… Unless you were already a lying, unscrupulous, manipulative little bitch in the first place?

But she hadn’t thought it was kind to share that part out loud.

Mara had thought this all very quickly - and, only seconds after having spoken, she looked up at Danyal warily, expecting his rebuttal. Anything. A quick defence, an angry silence, an irritated comment. Something, because - of course - Divvy Kapoor was perfect and Dany Zafar was whipped.

But that isn’t what Samara got - in fact, it wasn’t even something she saw. Instead, Mara was surprised to find Dany looking…

Confused.

Confused and curious and something else that Mara didn’t know how to identify.

Dany knew he should be offended. After all, the entire reason he had initially agreed to this entire plan was for… Divya. He should be offended, pissed off that Mara could even say something like that.

But he wasn’t.

It was like someone had struck a bell somewhere in the back of his head when Samara had spoken and now, the tolls were slowly continuing to reverberate through his mind. It was dull and in the background, but it was there, a… Buzzing. One that wasn’t going away. Like it meant something.

One of Dany’s revision tips from university came from a study he’d read - that reading revision material before sleeping for the night, meant that the brain continued to process the information, and more efficiently, as the body rested. Dany trusted the method. It had gotten him through plenty of boring maths revision at Oxford.

As absolutely ridiculous as it sounded… Samara’s words… Felt like that. Like he was still processing, even though he was asleep.

He sounded like a madman.

“… Go on.” He encouraged, watching her carefully.

Mara stared at Dany in disbelief. He hated hearing negative things about Divvy - did he want them to argue?

But, realising this was her last opportunity to say what she truly felt… Mara selfishly went on.

“I think she doesn’t know what she wants, and she’s projecting that onto you.” Mara began delicately. Seeing no change in Dany’s expression, she felt slightly more confident. “I think that despite the very many flaws you have-” Samara was sure to emphasise the very. Just because she was holding Dany up to a higher standard than the likes of Divvy Kapoor… Well. Mara didn’t consider Divvy a particularly good benchmark for decency anyway, so it wasn’t really that much of a compliment. “- and I mean many… You deserve better. Your family deserves better.”

“My family?” Dany blinked. He was just… Listening, taking in the information. It was throwing Samara off. “What does this have to do with them?”

Mara winced slightly. How did she even begin to explain?

“This… Person Divvy paints herself to be, hard done by and lacking in a family unit? That’s me. I am that girl.” There was no pity in Mara’s voice - she was stating fact, not making some sort of emotional statement. They both knew it, too. “And anyone from that kind of situation, or anything even a little bit like it, would be grateful at how welcoming and loving and… Amazing your family are.” Samara shook her head, unable to hide her disdain. “Not trying to… Cut them out and demand a secret wedding, just because she’s jealous and wants to control you.”

Yes, Samara had wanted to be honest. But she hadn’t counted on being that honest.

She watched Dany as he turned to look out of the window, the jalebi both in her lap and her hand forgotten.

Dany watched the wide, grey road ahead of them, the buildings slowly becoming shinier and taller as they reached the inner city. He could still remember that stupid wedding. He could feel the itch of his clothes, the way his shoulders had been tense the entire team - how with each step he took towards Divya’s accusing eyes, he felt like he was dragging an anchor behind him.

It wasn’t exactly a fond memory.

“That’s a pretty strong opinion.” Danyal finally said.

Samara sighed.

“I don’t want to argue with you.” She told him - before almost shoving the largest piece of jalebi from the box into his hands. With a half-smile, Dany took it - he understood that Samara had… Difficulties, with putting apologies into words. “I answered the question you asked. But trust me, a girl like her should feel lucky to have a family like yours even know her name, for goodness sake.”

Dany said nothing, staring down at the jalebi. Already, it began to melt on his fingertips.

He hadn’t meant to say it - honestly, he hadn’t. He hadn’t even thought it. It just… Slipped out and maybe Samara was right - maybe it was because he had no filter, that it came out fully processed and with no warning.

“Do you feel lucky?”

Sentimentality was not an adequate enough explanation for this type of behaviour. Jet lag, maybe? Residual exhaustion from all of the travelling he’d done so far?

Mara’s eyebrows furrowed in confusion, silently asking - what do you mean?

“About my family knowing your name.” Dany clarified. Mara looked… Surprised. “Do you feel lucky?”

Mara opened her mouth to speak - but at first, no words came out.

Dany watched curiously as Samara began to fidget, breaking off a small twig of jalebi and twirling it in her hands. Just for something to do, Dany took a bite of the piece she’d given him.

“That’s different.” She finally said. “I… That’s cultivated, it doesn’t count.”

“Cultivated or not, it’s still about your feelings.” Dany shrugged, suddenly very interested in the pattern of Mara’s tunic. He focused on the edge of her sleeve, a mix of turquoise, white and orange. “Maybe it should count. You appreciate my family. You feel lucky. We’re already seventy percent there.”

They didn’t move. Either one of them. The car kept moving, the radio kept playing, the driver kept humming along - but neither one of them moved. When Dany dared to glance up, for just a second, Mara’s eyes were focused on the jalebi box in front of her.

And then it was gone so quickly, that both of them could have easily doubted whether it had ever happened at all.

Samara forced a laugh.

“That’s not funny, even as a joke, Danyal, God.” She told him, avoiding his eyes - and even though Dany had started it, even though he’d just been… Making a point, yes, that was what it was, he couldn’t quite meet hers either. “The one stable thing in my life over the past few months has been knowing this wedding is going to be a trainwreck.” She muttered, shaking her head slightly.

“But it’d be so easy.” Dany sighed - and the tension in Mara’s shoulders just… Fell away, at hearing the humour in his voice. Of course there was humour in his voice. What else could it have been? “And seeing as you hate Divya so much, you’d be doing me a favour-”

Something in Samara’s head just snapped.

“Why don’t you do yourself a favour then, and get rid of her? Because I can’t remember the last time you sounded happy at hearing her name anyway.” She said sharply.

Dany’s eyes widened in bewilderment at the sudden… Venom in Samara’s voice.

They knew each other too well, and were both too stubborn, to not look at one another when they fought. Which was confusing, because they weren’t fighting, not technically - they were just… Speaking in code.

Which was dumb, because it was a code that neither one of them could understand.

It was messed up. Samara knew that. And she felt… Strange, like someone had her throat in a vice, at how Dany was looking at her. Like she’d just slapped him. Like she’d said something he hadn’t even thought of before - and it was irritating, how… Innocent he looked, with his fluffy dark hair threatening to fall in front of his wide brown eyes, because this was serious. She just… Didn’t know why.

“And anyway,” She coughed, her voice immediately softer than before. “I wouldn’t be doing you a favour. I’d be teaching you a lesson. You’re Danyal Zafar, you’re used to having everything you want. Not everyone is willing to be that disposable.”

It was meant to come out as teasing - confident, cocky almost. Instead, it just came out as… Feeble. And more telling than Mara was comfortable with.

Sensing Mara’s discomfort, Dany almost felt ashamed. He didn’t want her to feel… Bad. He was making himself feel bad and that was always low on his list of priorities. Why was everything becoming so… Difficult?

Friends. They were… Friends. He just wanted to enjoy being with his friend.

“I’m still confused about why you think Divya is worth so little.”

Samara smiled - slightly out of disbelief, and slightly out of thankfulness. It was a crappy subject change, but at least it was one.

“Of course you are.” Mara sighed, shaking her head.

“She has issues, just like everyone else.” Dany continued, his eyes watching Samara’s every move. He didn’t know… Why he was so obsessed with having Mara’s opinion, but suddenly it mattered. A lot. Especially with the wedding so close. “That doesn’t necessarily warrant being called a piece of shit-”

Unbeknownst to many, Samara had a small fuse in head - one that didn’t allow her mouth to override her brain whenever Divvy’s name was mentioned. It worked extremely well, and Samara often thought Dany needed one. Her fuse got used more often that she would have liked, but it did a good job and Mara was proud of it.

But in that moment… It blew.

“What if it had been Zarina? Or Tara?” She demanded, turning to face him. Dany raised his eyebrows, meeting Samara’s eyes - the same ones he’d been admiring earlier - and finding them wide and angry. “No, in fact - not even them. Someone not even as close to you, what if it had been me?”

“I don’t understand-”

“If I told you,” Mara began, slow and impatient all at the same time. “That I’d lost my virginity at fifteen, to a man who was turning twenty, a man my family had trusted to keep me safe one night, what would you say to me, Danyal?” If Danyal had looked as if he’d been slapped earlier… Now he looked as if he’d been punched square in the jaw. But Mara was on a roll now, so she didn’t wait for his response - no. She ploughed on, because she was sick of this, sick of having to bite back the words she wanted to say the most. “If I told you that this twenty year old had seduced me in my bed, got on top of me and slept with me, what would you say? If it were me?”

Dany was immediately furious; at her implication, and the image she’d planted in his mind. She could see it, right alongside indignation and disgust.

But that was her entire point! Because she didn’t even matter to him, and that was the reaction he felt. Why couldn’t he see it the other way?

“I…” Dany was speechless. Genuinely speechless, not electively so like normal, because he simply couldn’t be bothered. For the first time ever, Dany didn’t have anything to say. But Mara still stared at him, eyebrows raised, because she knew he was ridiculous enough to try. “No. No, I mean - I - it’s… Different-”

“Why? Because you’re a boy?” Mara scoffed. She physically had to turn away from him for a moment, to try and compose herself. Was he deliberately being obtuse? Probably not. No, it was probably Divvy’s sharp claws still embedded in him. When Mara rounded back to him, Dany couldn’t remember the last time she’d looked so furious. Her cheeks were almost red from it. “Tell me, what’s the legal age of consent in the UK? Or the US, for that matter?”

Dany faltered.

“I… I- that doesn’t matter -”

“Or India? Or right here, in Pakistan?” She continued, relentless. Dany was… Too stunned, and too angry at what she was suggesting, to say anything more than he already had. “Let me tell you - the age of sexual consent in England is sixteen. In New York, it’s seventeen, in Pakistan it’s illegal outside of marriage and-” Mara laughed, a cold, dry sound. “- married to her you are not and in India, it’s eighteen.” Realising the insinuation, Dany’s eyes widened. “You were fifteen-”

“Stop.” Dany warned. “It is not what you’re - it was the day before she was turning twenty-one, that’s legally within the accepted four year age gap in the States and I gave consent-”

“Danyal.” Mara groaned, covering her face with her hands. Didn’t he see it? Why couldn’t he see it?! “Look - did you just hear yourself? Doesn’t you even having to know that prove there’s something wrong?!”

Dany was shaking his head before she’d even finished. No. No. She was twisting things. He’d had to ask! She’d warned him before, about asking for her opinion, but no, he’d gone ahead and asked anyway. And if she hated Divvy so much, why hadn’t she said something before?! That was all this was. Mara hating Divya…

From her perspective, it’s not hard to understand why.

He really hated that little voice.

“You’re making out it was something - something sordid.” Dany tried to explain. “It isn’t, it wasn’t-”

Samara took a deep breath. Maybe if she explained herself. Maybe if she was calmer, gentler…

Oh, who was she kidding? Subtle hadn’t gotten anyone anywhere!

“Dany. You are a British citizen. I am a British citizen. That means British law applies, whether it happened in the States or not-” Dany looked out of the window, still shaking his head. She yanked on his arm for his attention - and given the filthy glare she received, she knew it had worked. “She was over the age of majority. You were under the age of consent, it doesn’t matter where it happened, it was immoral and illegal-”

“Not in the States!”

So far, they argument - whilst heated - had been quiet. After all, nobody else knew of Divya and Dany’s affair - and it wasn’t exactly something they wanted shared.

But now, Mara’s voice rose.

“You’re worth more, for God’s sake!” She shouted - and, seeing the driver’s eyes flicker towards her reflection in the mirror, she deflated as Dany tensed. She - this was why she hadn’t wanted to speak. Because she’d known it would come down to this, what she’d been thinking ever since Dany had told her the story of how he’d lost virginity, and now that she was saying it all out loud, she couldn’t stop until he understood. “Did the legal technicalities with Zarina-”

“Don’t, Samara.” Dany warned. “Don’t even-”

“What happened to your sister was vile.” Samara continued, more gently this time - but Dany’s jaw suddenly clenched so hard, that Mara worried he was going to break his own teeth. “Wrong and awful and vile - and the legal technicalities of her case don’t change that!”

“If anyone thought something as screwed up as what you’re implying, they would tell me. Ari would tell me-”

“Dany, I didn’t mean-”

“- but maybe because you’re not used to having a family, you don’t understand that.” Dany spat.

He regretted it the moment he said it.

Helplessly, Dany watched as Samara glanced away, chewing on her lip. He hadn’t - he wasn’t - he didn’t like anyone bringing up what had happened to Ari, she knew that! And he knew she wasn’t - she hadn’t - Dany knew she wasn’t saying that Ari saw the same thing, Mara wouldn’t cause trouble between them and they weren’t even together, but…

It just - it wasn’t true. It wasn’t true! It couldn’t… It wasn’t true, it didn’t make sense, and Dany had just - he’d wanted her to stop talking about it. He hadn’t meant to be… Vicious.

“That isn’t fair.” She finally said softly, looking down at the jalebi box. Dany at least had the grace to look ashamed. “Not to me, and not to her. If Zarina knew what had really happened between you and Divya, how young you were - how can you expect her to have told you? She can’t even talk about what happened to herself, and I don’t-” Mara sighed, shaking her head. Dany forced down the lump in his throat. Samara had… Called Divya by her proper name. That had made her sound so… Serious. “And I don’t blame her, not at all, but how can you sit here and act like if she knew the truth, she could just tell you? Her big brother, that something similar may have happened to him?”

“Nothing like that happened to me.” Dany said warningly - before sighing. “I’m - I shouldn't have said what I said-”

But Samara was already moving on to the next thing - and Dany felt guilt settle on his shoulders, heavy and unforgiving. She was just… Dany knew she was trying to help. She was still trying to help. He just didn’t want to think about it.

Usually, thinking about something Samara had said would mean it made sense.

“Fine. Let’s forget I ever brought up Ari. I mean, it’s not like I’m right anyway, because otherwise Ari would know the truth about how you and Divvy got together in the first place.” Mara said sarcastically. Dany rolled his eyes. So much for his apology. “What about Kabir?”

“What about him?” Dany asked tiredly.

“If Kabir told you a girl, the night of her twenty-first birthday, slept with him when he was fifteen years old…” Seeing the driver glance at them in the mirror, Samara rolled her eyes and shuffled over slightly, so that she and Dany were now sitting side-by-side. Dany avoided her gaze, feeling… Uncomfortable at Mara’s words, focusing on the contrast of her bright tunic next to his plain one instead. The worst part was that Mara didn’t even seem angry, or venomous. Just… Desperate for him to understand. “Yeah, okay, you’d pat him on the back, toxic masculinity for the win, but - look at me, Danyal- are you honestly telling me that, in that situation, something wouldn’t feel off to you? That you wouldn’t want that person as far away from Kabir as possible?”

When Mara had told him to look at her, it had been more than a command - she’d made it happen, using her knuckles to softly tilt his head to face her. She’d avoided the stickiness of her hands - Dany knew it had just been practicality -, but it had been a surprisingly soft gesture, given their current moods.

And because of that, and the sentimentality drenching the Pakistani air and Danyal’s stupid jet lag and his weird stomach twists - all of his justifications for Samara’s argument flew away. He couldn’t even remember what they were. Because her knuckles, soft and brushing his chin - clean-shaven, for seeing her -, and the way she was looking at him, desperate for him to understand and… So concerned - his guard took a definite hit.

She knew him. She knew him more than he’d ever wanted to give her credit for - because of course she was right. The thought of Kabir being in that position put a foul taste on Dany’s tongue - one made even worse, for knowing how much it would bother Mara to say it out loud. She and Kabir were like schoolchildren when they were together - he was easily the closest of Dany’s siblings to her. She was struggling to even talk about it.

Dany sighed silently to himself.

“And what difference does it make to you, if someone takes advantage of me?” Dany asked quietly, causing the mood to… Shift. It didn’t help that it was said in Urdu; a predominantly formal language, one often reserved for poetry and romance and consequently laced in meaning, even when there had been little meant beyond the surface. Consciously, anyway. His eyes narrowed slightly. “You’re only doing this for yourself, remember?”

“If someone takes advantage of you, you deserve to know about it. And Danyal Zafar or not, you’ve earned that right from me.”

Surprise flickered across Dany’s face… As embarrassment flickered over Mara’s.

“I shouldn’t have said that in Urdu.” Mara mumbled, more to herself than Dany - and Dany couldn’t help but stare, as her eyes flickered downwards in confusion.

“Why?” Dany asked impatiently. Samara stared up at him warily. “Sounds like you mean it more?”

It came out more scathing than Dany had intended.

“I’ve made my point. If you choose to ignore it, then that’s your problem.” Samara finally said quietly, feeling… Odd, at how she was being watched. Dany felt odd to be watching. What was it he was looking for, exactly? The secrets of the universe, hidden away on her face?

Something like that.

That voice… Was really getting on his last nerve.

Danyal watched as Mara searched his face, trying to understand - before her eyes fell to her knuckles, still resting lightly underneath his chin… And turning a deep pink.

Before Dany had the chance to say anything, she’d all but thrown herself back to her seat on the other side of the car.

“How far are we?” She called out to the driver, not looking in Dany’s direction. He turned to look out of his window, alarm bells ringing in his mind. What had just happened? Under the pretence of resting his chin in his hand, Dany rubbed where Samara’s knuckles had been, as it had begun to tingle.

“Not long, ma’am.” The driver replied. Right now, Dany could barely remember his own name - let alone the driver’s. What was going on with him? “Ten minutes, max.”

Dany glanced at Samara, in order to gauge her reaction; but there was a lack of one, as Samara simply nodded, and, with a polite smile, turned to face the view out of her own window. They were in the city now - wide grey roads up ahead, with flower boxes planted between the lanes and lush, mountain greenery looming up ahead.

The white box sat between them and, from the corner of his eye, Dany saw Samara slowly suck the sugar from her fingers, lost in thought.

She looked tense. Dany certainly felt it.

Turning fully back to the window, Dany tried to… Digest Samara’s words. Without their argument to distract him, he was slightly concerned to find himself… Fine. Relaxed, almost.

Bizarre as it was to think, there had been something… Genuine about Samara’s argument, something kind. Honest. But that was her all over - completely unafraid to tell him the truth, regardless of whether or not he wanted to hear it. So long as she knew it would help, Mara always told him the truth - and being Danyal Zafar meant that, often, the truth was substituted for flattery.

There were few people who were confident enough in their relationships with Danyal to be so honest - but they were the few that Dany valued the most, as his closest and dearest friends.

It felt… Good, to know Samara was a part of that group. A pleasant surprise.

Great to know you noticed just in time to help her disappear.

Dany frowned.

He and Samara didn’t talk for the rest of the journey.

. . .

Danyal and Samara’s office, the one they spoke about with such affection, was the Pakistan Monument; a towering structure, designed to look like a blooming flower from an aerial view, with each petal carved with the nation’s history. The Monument was part of a larger complex, including a museum, gardens and a large terrace made of marble that overlooked the city in its entirety - including the Margalla Hills in the distance, the beginning of the Himalayan foothills.

Even as a little boy, Dany had always loved those hills. Beyond them began India - and so, in an odd sort of way, those hills represented home to Danyal more than any one country.

Dany had taken Mara to the Monument for the first time - during their first family trip, when they’d ran out on everyone and almost caused her aunt’s head to explode. Like most people who considered a large city home, despite her many trips back, Samara had never been to the Monument - after all, it was a tourist attraction. All residents of any city took tourist attractions for granted. But Dany had been aghast at that entire way of thinking, and insisted on righting such a terrible wrong.

To thank him for it, Mara had taken the Zafars out for some of the best barbecue in the city, out on the hills. Mara and Dany had sat on opposite ends of the table, smiling triumphantly at each other, as their families had laughed and joked, Islamabad basking in the warmth of endless twinkling lights beneath them.

Standing out on the furthermost point of the terrace, the both of them looked out to the hills, remembering that same night.

If Samara could go back, would she? Would she have tried to tell herself it was all a bad idea? Was it?

And Dany wondered whether the heaviness in his chest at remembering such a fond memory was caused by some sort of altitude sickness.

Shaking his head to himself, Dany stepped forward.

“Ah, thank you.” Mara sighed happily, taking one of the sticks of a pistachio ice cream - called kulfi - happily. “Okay. The plan, from the top.”

“Is that really necessary?” Dany asked boredly, leaning against one of the many arches that decorated the terrace’s edge, removing focus from the silver security bar. “We’ve been over the plan at least a thousand times by now-”

“Then going over it again will be as automatic as breathing.” Mara said sweetly.

Danyal sighed.

“You have your final fitting this evening.” Dany began, an expression of intense disinterest displayed clearly on his face. “Ari will arrive tomorrow and you’ll all spend time together, before Annie and Ari leave for London the day after. By then, Raj and I will be in Vegas with the rest of the boys and by the time everyone has arrived there, you’ll be flying down to London for your hen-”

Mara shook her head through a mouthful of ice cream. “Not hen, bridal shower.” She corrected. Dany raised an eyebrow. Did it matter? “Pixie says hen gives off the wrong impression for someone as fancy as the Zafars’ first daughter-in-law.”

“And she actually said the word fancy?”

Mara waved her hand at him. “I’m paraphrasing. And make sure I give you the rings before you leave tomorrow. Carry on.”

“We have the business brunch with my parents’ board members on Wednesday morning, and the big, formal mehndi in the evening-”

“The one where we sit and look pretty and in love for all of the people that didn’t make the final guest list.” Mara smirked, nodding to herself. “Lucky them. Don’t forget my mehndi is on-”

“The Friday… And take off is Saturday night.” Dany finished, glancing over at Samara. All of a sudden, she was studying the view with a significant amount of interest. Happy for a distraction, Dany shrugged his… Watchfulness off. “Hey, you have more pistachios than me. Sharing is caring-”

Happy to have something distract them both, Dany quickly went to grab Mara’s ice cream… Only for Samara to hold onto it, staring up at him with indignation, until the ice cream swayed - and hit Danyal on the nose.

“That was not what I was expecting.” Dany muttered, too stunned to move.

… And that was when Samara started to laugh.

Dany’s warm smile was automatic - and as he touched where the already-melting ice cream had left its mark, Samara’s laughter went from loud to hysterical. It was infectious.

There was relief in Dany’s chuckle, too - because this, this felt ordinary. They sniped and teased at each other, and then they laughed about it, and then it was business as usual. And repeat.

Not after next week.

The thought was sudden, and intrusive enough, for Dany to stop laughing - not that Samara seemed to notice.

Dany watched, feeling… Dull on the inside, as the thought echoed in his mind. Mara was holding onto the safety bar to stay upright, and every time she looked up at Dany, she burst into a fresh set of giggles.

“You are - you are honestly - such a mess-” She wheezed, laughing so hard… That the ice cream fell to the floor with a soft splat, setting Mara off to the point where no sound left her mouth. Dany laughed too - but this time, purely because it was so fun to watch her laugh. “Oh my - oh my God, Danyal, come here- ”

That stupid, goofy smile still on his face, Dany leant down slightly as Samara stepped forwards, resting her hand on his shoulder to steady herself. The puddle of rapidly melting kulfi lay forgotten behind her.

“Try not to cause an accident with this one.” She snickered, nodding to Dany’s own.

It had been automatic - when Mara had closed the space between them, Dany’s hand had fallen to the small of her back, steadying her. There wasn’t anything… Special about it. Even now, as Mara used the tips of her fingers to gently begin dabbing away at the runaway dessert, still grinning… It was normal for Mara to be so close. Dany, or Mara for that matter, didn’t even think about it. It was normal for them to have so little space between them.

Would it be normal if I kissed her right now?

It had come out of nowhere - but before Dany even had time to process the thought, he was down the rabbit hole.

Immediately, he felt irritated at himself - and even more irritatingly, not for thinking something so… Unnecessary. No. He felt irritated because… He should have already known what it was like to kiss her. They’d done it enough times.

It was another tool in their box, something else to use as part of their charade as time had worn on. It was only the first time that had been… Odd. Dany had made the first move, proving a point to one of Samara’s obnoxious dancer friends who clearly liked her too much, and Samara, although clearly shocked at first, had quickly played along. That was all Dany could really remember.

It must have been pleasant. He wouldn’t have kept kissing her, or managed to make it so convincing, if that weren’t the case, right? He just… Hadn’t noticed.

Whenever they’d had to pull out a kiss for show - a proper kiss, not a quick peck on the cheek every now and then -… Well, Dany knew Mara had nice breath - and whatever she wore on her lips was never too sticky, or seemed to smudge too much over the two of them. She was really good at… Reading him, in terms of what kind of kiss they were meant to be having or what point it was meant to prove, but they were a good team like that anyway.

But beyond the pragmatics… Dany couldn’t think of much else.

As Mara opened her mouth to speak, Dany could only hear a strange… Roaring in his ears and his heart hammered at his chest, so hard that Dany was sure, if he looked down at his tunic, he’d see it. Her lips, pink and damp from the ice cream, brushed against each other… And Dany realised, as if he’d known it all along (when he really hadn’t), that those lips were addictive - because he wouldn’t have found reasons to keep kissing them if they weren’t.

She was addictive.

I’m getting too close. A voice in his head warned, and this time, it was very much Dany in control of it. Jump ship before you’re in over your head.

He was right. Of course he was. This thought process was… A runaway thought, yes, but not a good one. Dany was logical, practical, and practically speaking, entertaining such thoughts when feeling sentimental and potentially - potentially - … Nervous about next week’s performance was… Counterproductive.

Dany knew that. He did. The problem was that, despite knowing that, he still couldn’t drag his eyes away Samara’s mouth.

And worst of all, it seemed as if she was completely oblivious.

Dany landed back on Earth with a crash.

“- see you now, an entire mountain of rumours would just tremble.” Mara waggled her eyebrows mischievously, using the pad of her thumb to remove the last of the ice cream splatters from the corner of Danyal’s mouth. Nodding to herself, pleased with her handiwork, Mara absent-mindedly sucked the ice cream away. “There, all fixed, you’re welcome.”

He’d already been thinking about kissing her. Now he was mentally tripping over himself, at seeing Samara’s fingers, which had been in contact so easily with his mouth, being in contact with her own.

Realising that he was… Sinking, Dany subtly glanced around. The Monument was a popular spot for picnics, and Danyal spotted a family a small way away, including a young couple - Dany guessed early thirties -, smiling in his and Mara’s direction.

He knew what they were thinking - that he and Mara, with him pulling her close and Mara’s engagement ring sparkling in the sunlight, were newlyweds. And normally, Dany would have warned Samara that they had an audience - but he didn’t.

And there was no constant buzzing in his head, either. He felt weirdly… Quiet, with one hand on Samara’s back and the other - he couldn’t even remember how it had gotten there - on her waist. Calm. Like all of the background noise in his head that he was used to, along with the added buzz that had come from their previous conversation… Didn’t exist. He was just… There. Present. Holding her close and feeling a bit gormless, as Samara nattered away obliviously.

What the Hell did that mean?

“- isn't she? Danyal?” He jerked back to the present, immediately paranoid, as Mara slapped him lightly on the cheek. What had he missed? Had she noticed him staring? It was no secret that they both found the other at least passably attractive, but staring like an idiot at her mouth was something a little more difficult to explain. In fact, even internally, the overwhelming urge to just… Kiss her was fucking weird. Mara, finally seeing Dany’s pupils refocusing, sighed. “Divvy, we’re talking about Divvy. Do I have your attention now? She is going to do what we want her to next week, isn't she?”

She then stepped away from him, back behind the melting kulfi, to look up at him properly - and Dany suddenly felt irritated at how he'd had to hide how his hands had hovered in the space where Mara’s body had been just moments before.

Dany’s irritation quickly became more frustrated, as Dany realised the question. What was with Mara’s… Obsession today? He was sick of talking about Divya, of her somehow being the focal point in nearly every conversation he and Samara had had so far.

… And yes, whilst Dany acknowledged there was an argument for the fact that, as the wedding approached, Divya - as part of the reason for the whole fake wedding thing was happening - was a necessary talking point… Why wasn't it enough for Dany to say he had everything under control?

He was sick of it, sick of discussing the same plan over and over again -

Sick of Divya.

Did that voice in his head come with a mute button?

“We’re not talking about this again.” Dany said firmly, shaking his head - not that, of course, it made any difference.

“It’s a valid question!” Mara protested, slightly offended by how… Casual he was being. Almost a year’s worth of scheming and manipulation was resting on Divvy Kapoor’s weak, pathetic little shoulders - Samara had every right to be concerned! “What if she doesn't fall for it? What if she doesn't get the hint about you wanting her to prove her love on the actual wedding day? We can't afford for her to mess this up, you're already going to have to be so careful with how you speak to her-”

Turning to stare down at the grey mess of winding roads beneath them, Dany clenched his jaw.

“I've told you, it's under control. She lives her life by a script, feeling as if her life is actually important enough to be dramatic in real life is enough to have her drooling.”

The bitterness in Dany’s voice took them both by surprise - and as a surprised silence fell between them, Dany tried to ignore how Mara’s eyes had widened at it. Hell, even he was surprised. He didn't just sound bitter. He sounded… Pissed.

They were discussing the final part of their plan - the part that only they knew about, the most delicate piece.

Throughout their fake relationship, Dany and Mara had methodically left a trail of breadcrumbs for Divya to pick up on. It was the most manipulative part of their plan, and possibly the cruellest - because it relied on Danyal’s intimate knowledge of Divya’s insecurities, and Samara’s ability to operate them.

It was Mara’s superpower, the power of which impressed Dany regularly. The action was always so simple; a look of uncertainty on Dany’s face, a frown on Mara’s, always perfectly timed so that Divya would always be the only one to see it, even across a crowded room. It wasn't even basic jealousy tactics - it was tailored so specifically to Divya’s personality, and her ego requiring Danyal to be unhappy with anyone who wasn't her, that it was... Impossible to be replicated.

It wasn't exactly a credit to Divya’s character - but it was an attest to Mara’s skill, and had, during Mara’s first demonstration, made Dany embarrassed to be so stuck in love with someone as… Easily played as Divya.

Not that Danyal was in a position to judge, of course. He was the idiot who had fallen in love with her.

Really?

But this time, Dany was too busy inside of his own thoughts to be irritated by that voice again. Their trail of breadcrumbs had led Divya to this moment - when, with the wedding looming ahead, her confidence in Dany’s love for her was suddenly quite shaken.

Divya, still playing her supposed sisterly role - something quite… Sickening, given Mara’s comments earlier -, would watch as the events leading up the wedding and unfolded - and she'd snap.

The rest was simple, in Dany’s mind - she would approach him, he knew, insisting he was making a mistake and generally attempting to get into his head. Dany would rebuff her - and, accusing her of the mindless jealousy she'd always so easily accused of him, hinting at an unspoken ultimatum. Do something about it - forget everything you've ever cared about, except this -, or watch me walk away, forever knowing that you destroyed your own happiness.

Mara had been surprised when Danyal had suggested that as the plan’s ending. Dany thought it rather fitting. After all, it was the exact same ultimatum that Divya had given him.

And so that was their plan - to let Divya unravel on the day of the wedding, causing chaos in her wake. Dany wasn't sure on the exact details - she'd either approach him before the ceremony itself, one last time to beg him not to go through with it, or simply assume to know Dany’s mind as she always had and interject before all of their guests -, but it didn't matter. It was the one part of the plan that Dany felt comfortable leaving slightly to chance… Because no matter what the method, the result remained the same. It was just a matter of which way the equation was balanced.

Dany’s knowledge of statistics was the source of his confidence. But his knowledge was not shared - which was why Mara continued to freak out about whether someone as “flaky as a derogatory adjective” - and that was a direct quote - could be relied on.

It was an annoying fear at the best of times, especially when you considered that Samara’s entire, successful plan so far had relied on logically assessing and manipulating Divya’s weaknesses. But Mara was quickly reminding him that fear was an illogical thing.

Dany couldn't relate.

“But…” Mara winced as Dany groaned. “I’m just saying, what if something has changed? What if she suddenly… Wakes up and realises that, actually, it’s kind of weird that she's this obsessive over you and should, actually, move on with her life-”

Dany couldn't hear anymore.

“So what if she does?” He snapped - and Mara physically jerked back at the sudden change in mood. “Are you worried you're suddenly going to have to marry me out of pity?”

Mara shook her head - slowly at first, and then quicker, as if offended by the mere suggestion.

Well, that made two of them.

“No, no, of course not-”

“Then what are you worried about?” Dany demanded. A small part of his brain - currently tied up somewhere, clearly - wondered what the Hell was wrong with him today. Samara was just nervous, and didn't she have a right to be? If his mood swings were anything to go by, it was a mutual feeling. So why was he being such a… Prat?

Dany genuinely didn't have a clue. Nerves didn't seem to be an adequate answer, and it wasn't like Dany had had the opportunity to think about Mara’s earlier comments and become offended. He'd been fine a few seconds ago!

Maybe you just care…

Dany finally felt grateful for that stupid voice - because, of course, that had to be it! Samara was his friend and she was… Working herself into a frenzy, over something that couldn't be helped. It was frustrating him, was all. That had to be it. They were meant to be enjoying their downtime, and they couldn't, because Mara was worried about Divya. He just wanted Mara to relax while she still could - before the lead-up to the wedding got really crazy.

Still… Knowing why he was so irritable didn't make Dany feel better. Since when did he stress out so much? Being an asshole wasn't going to make Mara feel better, or himself.

Much to his own surprise, Dany realised that maybe the voice of his subconscious had made a valid point. He was being neurotic, caring for his friend’s feelings like this.

It was probably guilt! Yes, that had to be it! He felt guilty because as much as Samara insisted she was doing this for herself, it was still Divya that she was stressing over. Dany’s ex. The ex who had influenced their entire plan, who they'd both had to work harder for.

Now Danyal felt better. It was still… Incredibly unreasonable of him, but at least it made sense. As long as things made sense, Danyal could make peace with it.

But that only furthered his point - that the voice telling him to take a step back, the sane voice, was right.

He couldn't take responsibility for everyone's feelings at once. That wasn't practical - and that was his job, to be the practical one.

Anyway, Dany knew for a fact that Samara was finishing up her period. That wouldn’t be helping. The first couple of times that PMS had affected her moods, Dany had taken note - and now, all it took was a simple calculation in his head.

Dany immediately felt calmer - more in control. He had understood the problem. He could come up with a solution, one that actually rather suited him. He almost felt silly, for being so confused before.

Dany had been so lost in his own thoughts, that he’d forgot his rudeness.

“Is this what it’s going to be like?” Samara asked quietly - and Dany turned, eyebrows raised, at the sudden sadness in her voice. “Our friendship, after the wedding?”

He paused, sure he’d misheard.

“… What are you talking about?”

“I’m talking about whenever I say something, or offer my opinion on whatever’s going on with you, you just shut me down.” Mara retorted, somewhat incredulous at Dany’s confusion. “You’re going to be a dismissive little shit, only with more of an audience, just because I’ll be your annoying ex?”

It slipped out before he could help it - and in fairness, and not for the first time in their conversation thus far, it came out a lot more abrasive than Dany had intended.

“Why would I be out with you in public after the wedding?” Seeing how Mara’s mouth fell open, Dany shrugged. “What?”

“What?” She repeated incredulously - and Dany stared as Mara crossed her arms angrily over her chest, her eyes flashing with anger. “What is it with you today, Danyal? Why are you being such a prick?”

Dany raised one, indignant eyebrow.

“A prick? Are you serious?” Dany scoffed - and just like that, all of the reasoning and internal debate he’d tried to so carefully cultivate… Disappeared up in smoke. He was being the prick? He was trying to make things better, easier and it was like every time he got closer to that goal, Mara deliberately tried to antagonise him. “What do you think is going to happen next week, Samara? After you run out of the wedding, Bollywood style, the week after that people are going to carry on seeing us hanging out in the park?”

“We both know that if there’s anyone running out of weddings Bollywood style, Danyal, it’s you, not me.” Mara retorted bitingly, her response immediate. “And - how dare you throw that in my face?! We agreed it’s the smartest thing for me to do - what, I’m meant to pretend to be dumped on the day of my wedding and then stand around and applaud as you marry the person you’ve dumped me for?” She raised her eyebrows expectantly as Dany stood to his full height, looking irritated. Well, if it was a fight he’d been after…

“Yes, and you conveniently left out the part about how much it’d kill you to stand there and applaud, when we first talked about it it-”

“What difference does that make?” Samara interrupted, frowning. “Literally - what difference does that make? None. It doesn’t. You’re being a douchebag.”

“It makes all of the difference!” Dany burst, causing Mara to scoff. Dany struggled to find the words. “I - you - it’s all about intent, it’s a matter of intent, you can’t ask for a round of applause for something when your intentions when doing it were different from the start-”

“When did I ask for applause? This is exactly my point, you’re not even listening to me-”

“You’re not listening to yourself-”

“Is this because of what I said about her earlier?” Mara demanded. The words on Dany’s tongue died - and although he told himself it was because he was struggling to find more, out of frustration at her… Wilful ignorance, that stupid voice told him it wasn’t. That, and to shut up and listen. And, you know, stop being a douchebag. “About… Divya? I wasn’t trying to upset you-”

But Dany wasn’t listening anymore, because she’d done it again - Mara had called Divya by her name. Not Divvy. Not your ex. And Dany suddenly felt like a popped balloon because… For God’s sake, what had they even been arguing about?

Mara was right. He was being a prick. And a douchebag.

It was just all so… Insane. Illogical! Dany had never had a temper, not ever. Everyone said he took after his father. The only time Danyal cared about his reputation was when it was somehow linked to business - other than that, he didn’t care. He didn’t need to. Being Danyal Zafar came with too many benefits and positive associations to care about a small a price as other people’s opinions.

But God, Samara got under his skin. And that didn’t make sense either, because only his loved ones, his real inner-circle, had the power to do that - and with the wedding looming, Dany had been forced to realise that Samara didn’t fall into that category.

Which made the whole temper predicament a million times more confusing.

“You don’t need to apologise.” Dany sighed, deflating and rubbing his face, leaning against the safety bar again.

It took him a moment to realise Mara was staring - or, more accurately, glaring. Her eyes looked lighter in this light, and they always seemed to shine more when she was angry - even if Dany knew, like so many other things to do with the… Infuriating girl standing in front of him, it didn’t make sense.

“I’m not.”

They stared at each other for a moment - Mara’s eyes slightly narrowed and angry, Dany’s irritated and assessing - … And just… Stopped. They agreed to stop.

Dany looked back up to the Hills as Samara sighed loudly, shaking her head slightly.

He didn’t allow himself to think before speaking. If he did, he wasn’t sure he’d go through with it.

“We should stop talking. From as soon as I leave for Vegas.”

Dany kept his eyes trained on the hills - he focused on one of the lower slopes, the tree peaks looking darker from this distance -, as Mara stared up at him in surprise.

“What-” Mara paused. “Wait, what do you-”

“We started talking to each other out of necessity, but now it’s become habit. We need to get used to not talking to each other anymore.” Dany almost looked down at her - but he stopped himself, just in time, and kept his eyes on the view. They didn’t move, looking, but barely seeing. “That’s how things will be after the-” For some reason, the word wedding caught in his throat. Next to him, Mara was frozen too, looking up at him with an expression he wouldn’t allow himself to see. “- next week.”

Dany didn’t move. Not even his knuckles - white from how hard they were gripping the safety bar - as the skin stretched over the bone; and next to him, Samara didn’t either, Dany barely being able to see from the corner of his eye that she was still staring up at him.

They heard the picnickers talking and laughing and eating; the traffic below; the sounds of bells on anklets ringing and the rustle of shoes against marble, of the breeze.

But they didn’t move.

In fact, as the minutes wore on, Danyal wondered if he’d spoken at all. If Mara had heard. In fact, it was just as Dany opened his mouth to… Say something, to check, something, when Samara finally spoke.

“Okay.” She said quietly - and when Dany stared down at her, his jaw clenching at the answer he’d thought would make him feel better to hear, Mara wasn’t looking at him, either. Her eyes were trained on nothingness behind him - a part of the marble floor. “Fine, yes, if that’s what you think. It… Makes sense.”

“It makes sense.” Dany repeated, a fresh wave of irritating, unidentified emotion itching at the back of his neck. It sounded more like a convincing.

It happened again. That… Pause.

This time, it was gone as quickly as it had come.

“We should go.” Mara sighed, turning away. Dany’s eyebrows furrowed in confusion. “There’s a lot to get done before next week - and you have your flight tomorrow.”

“We have time-” Dany muttered, checking his watch - but Samara shook her head, looking out to the view Dany had been so interested in just moments before.

“No, let’s go.” She echoed. “We’re done here.”

Dany watched as, without a second thought, Mara began to walk away.

Dany looked out to the city one more time - and slowly uncurled his fingers from the railing, feeling them ache slightly as they stretched. He was almost grateful - it was… Easier, to think about.

“Bye, office.” Dany muttered, frowning as his chest felt heavy - and following Samara out of their favourite place, for the last time.

*

They didn’t speak for the rest of their journey. Hell, neither one of them said much for the rest of the day - but with Dany, it was just… Less noticeable, with nobody there to question him. During her fitting with Pixie, Mara blamed jet-lag - and to her knowledge, it was.

Dany dropped by Mara’s uncle’s place, a modest white mansion at the base of the hills, in the morning, to pick up the rings.

By the time Samara had handed them over - and turned away for just a second, to reply to the maid asking after Danyal’s breakfast-, she could already hear the slam of the car door.

She sighed heavily to herself, pulling her shawl closer around her as she watched the car drive away. Danyal didn’t seem to look back.

“Guess we’re starting early.” Mara muttered to herself - before turning away, and doing the exact same thing.