Turn Right: Chapter Twenty-Nine
“You shouldn’t be here.” Soph said, not even bothering to glance up.
“I haven’t seen you this worried since I was stabbed.” Zayn murmured nonchalantly, sitting on the opposite side of Aman’s lifeless body. Soph rolled her eyes in disgust. “It was just something I noticed – no need to get so defensive.”
If looks could kill, Zayn would have been dying a slow and painful death.
They sat in silence for a few moments, the only sound being of the machines linked up to Aman beeping quietly. They were in one of the best private health facilities Lucknow had to offer – Jai had returned to relay the news of Aman’s terrible car crash to his family members, whilst Soph sat on watch. As it were, Soph didn’t have much energy to move – getting Aman to the hospital had only been half of Jai and Soph’s problems.
After deciding that India’s most eligible bachelor and pride of Lucknow probably shouldn’t be known for his suicidal exploits, Jai and Soph had rushed his half-conscious carcass into the A&E, right after Soph held Aman underneath a tree as Jai totalled his car. The raging mob Jai had created had become too enamoured with bloodying one another, they’d hardly noticed as the three ringleaders left.
Aman’s injuries had included two dislocated shoulders, five knuckle fissures, cracked four ribs, an arm broken in three places and an array of sickly looking bruises and cuts all over his body. Upon first seeing him, the team of doctors hadn’t known where to begin and Soph had understood why.
In the end, it had been decided that the dislocated shoulders would be the best start.
However, after a lot of arguing, it was decided Jai would be the one to relocate Aman’s joints. Aman had demanded it and Soph hadn’t understood why – until she’d seen it.
“On three.” Jai told Aman seriously, after a crash-course by one of the doctors. Aman had nodded. “Okay. Here we go. One-” Without warning, Jai crunched Aman’s shoulder back into place.
“Motherfucking sisterfucking bastard piece of shit!” Aman swore loudly in Punjabi, automatically punching Jai as hard in the face as he could.
Soph and the small team of doctors and nurses had watched in horror as Jai toppled to the floor, cupping his jaw and swearing, as Aman slid off of the hospital bed, his teeth gritted in pain.
Later, Soph would remember the action and be mildly impressed. After all, the fist he’d used to connect with Jai’s face was still damaged, as was the arm.
The second time around, there wasn’t much difference. Jai promised to lock Aman’s second arm in place on three this time and Aman agreed to trying not to reflexively hit him, but both lied. The only real difference was in Aman’s punch – he was feebler the second time and although Jai staggered slightly, he remained upright long enough to hold Aman by the shoulders to stop him from falling, allowing Aman to breathlessly rest his head on his friend’s chest, wheezing.
Soph had finally felt helpful when it had come to... Well, fixing everything else. Aman had struggled to remain conscious as several nurses attended to him – taping his ribs, cleaning his cuts, checking his bruises for signs of internal bleeding, bandaging his knuckles, checking the rest of his reflexes – and it had been Soph’s job to keep him alert, whilst tended to Jai’s newly sore jaw with a pack of ice in the corner.
“Are you suicidal?” Soph had seethed. “Are you insane? All of that crap you spewed in New York and – and look at what you did! What are you – what were – what are you doing with your life? Did you even stop and think about the people around you, how they’d feel if something more serious than this had happened to you? What about Bee? And your grandfather, and Jai, and Lucky and the rest of u – I mean, everyone really – and you were so... So selfish! And what, you’re going to let your dad trample all over you like that? I – just – what is wrong with you?”
Now, as Aman’s head as slowly began to drop throughout Soph’s tirade, Soph had thought with grim satisfaction it was out of shame upon hearing the reality of his actions. But as Aman’s body began to topple towards the floor, Soph realized it was because he was blacking out.
“Aman!” She’d said quickly, placing her hands on his naked chest and pushing him up. One hand over his heart and the other on his cheek, Soph struggled to keep his weight, desperately hoping he was going to be okay. “Aman, I’m sorry, okay, please just – just wake up, Aman, I-” She’d stopped, forcing herself to calm down. “Aman? Aman, please wake up, okay?”
Aman had finally nodded, his head weighing heavily on his shoulders.
“Though if you keep yelling at me, I will pass out, okay?” He’d managed to say tiredly, his throat hoarse. He’d then glanced up at her, managing a small, tired smile. “I get it. We’re as bad as each other.”
Soph hadn’t known what response to have to that.
Also, despite the fact the man before her had been bloodied, sweaty and in a state of severe pain – he’d refused pain killers, well, until Jai had threaten to dislocate his shoulders again unless he took them (they’d had quite the argument)... Soph had been unable to help – and she’d tried – to stop herself from remembering her dream, the one where she’d been holding Aman in a similar way, yet so, so differently.
It was just as Soph was reminiscing that Zayn reminded her that he was there.
“Whatever.” Soph muttered, not entirely sure what he’d just said. “Can’t you just go? What are you even doing here?”
“Trying to talk to you!” Zayn said angrily. “Jesus! Soph, we need to talk. We need to talk things through.”
Soph groaned, letting her head rest on the back of the chair.
“Then grow a goddamn pair of balls and actually say something worth listening to, Zayn!” Soph cried. “Or are you just wasting more of my time? Again?”
“I just want to know what happened to you!” Zayn yelled, exasperated.
“One minute, we can’t keep our hands off each other-” Soph closed her eyes, shaking her head. This was unreal. “- and the next, all of a sudden, what, I’m the worst person in the world? You liked it, Soph, okay? I know I’m good at sex.”
“Wow.” Soph said drily. “Someone give you a fucking medal.”
“What did this... Dead... Thing do to your body that it doesn’t work anymore, hmm?” Zayn demanded, Soph’s jaw dropping at his unique choice of words. “What, are you on meds now? Are you pretending you’re not attracted to me anymore?”
“Have you ever considered that being treated like a slut just doesn’t do it for me?” Soph asked dully, effectively stunning Zayn into silence. “What, is the only way a girl can’t be attracted to you is by being heavily medicated? That doesn’t rape-y at all. Maybe your ringtone should be a Robin Thicke song and you should have a sign around your neck saying my sensibility ratings are so low, they’re underwater!”
“I’m standing on land.” Zayn muttered.
“Oh, dear God.” Soph mumbled to herself.
“I never treated you like a slut, either.” Zayn told her angrily. “I was fucking awesome in bed, Soph! You knew it! What, are you telling me you faked all of those times you were out of breath from screaming my name so much? Because considering you were a virgin before we got married and I’d have you all wet for me by just looking at you, I doubt it!”
For a moment, Soph froze – out of the corner of her eye, she thought she’d seen Aman move. But he remained still, sleeping soundly, his breathing unchanged.
“Will you please keep your voice down? This is a public place, and Aman’s trying to sleep.” Before Zayn could interrupt, she continued. “And no, I’m not saying I faked it! I didn’t fake it! But what, is that all that matters? Contrary to popular belief, sex can be more than biological satisfaction!”
“Like you’d know.” Zayn scoffed, smirking slightly. “Since when did you become such an expert? Your little love affair?”
“You little shit, you know I haven’t done anything like that with Aman, so cut the bitter heartbroken husband act, will you?” Soph said disgustedly. She chose her words carefully, being sure not to lie, even if Zayn was unaware of her recent... Thoughts in Aman’s presence. “And it’s not rocket science! You shouldn’t feel... Cheap and – and empty and – worthless when you’re with someone after that! Especially if you care for them, it should-” Soph shook her head slightly, wishing her thoughts away. Laughing into Aman’s mouth as they kissed, her heart flying up into her throat as he touched her, feeling light-headed and giddy when he looked her way, but somehow like he was the one giving her air when she suffocated – all feelings from her imagination but be that as it may, what if her imagination was still just trying to tell her something? “- it should feel... Good. And not just because endorphins are going mad, but because it’s sacred,there’s a sanctity to something that intimate – not just going through life treating everything as a quickie in an alleyway, for God’s sake!”
Zayn’s jaw clenched as he remembered Spain, before he’d realized his feelings for Soph – grinding a stranger’s hips against his, but whispering Soph’s name. Zayn suddenly felt dirty for thinking it, remembering it, doing it – and so he quickly brushed it away, focusing on what else Soph had said instead.
“You don’t even believe in any of that stuff.” Zayn said stiffly. “And I’ve been sending you those flowers every day, haven’t I? How’s that for romantic?”
Soph sighed quietly, chewing her lip, her eyes glinting with something that looked like sadness – before she realized the last part of what Zayn had just said.
“If I didn’t believe in any of that stuff, Zayn, I wouldn’t have married you – and we bothknow it hasn’t been you who has been sending me flowers..” Soph said sharply, so quietly that Zayn wasn’t sure he’d even heard her correctly. “Look, let’s... Let’s not talk about this anymore, okay? Contrary to popular belief, I don’t want to argue more. And Aman’s going to be up soon, he needs to rest.”
Zayn sighed, running his hands through his hair. For a moment, Soph knew, he was going to argue with her – he was actually going to question Soph’s sanity about him sending her Aman’s flowers every day. But a tiny bit of sense finally kicked in and he let it go.
“Why do you even care so much about him?” Zayn leant forward earnestly, his expression beseeching. He needed... He needed Soph to understand. “Every time I look at him, I’m scared of losing you, Soph! It – it terrifies me-”
“Will you please stop being so dramatic, before I put myself in intensive care just so I don’t have to listen to you?” Soph interrupted, wide-eyed. “Look. You know how this ends, so stop pretending, alright? Because that’s the problem here. All of it. You just need to stop pretending.”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about-”
“We’re endgame, Zayn!” Soph snapped. “You know it and I know it, and just like we both know you’re in no danger of losing me, we both know it’s not because of our amazing love.” Soph bitterly turned away, focusing on a small spot of pillow by Aman’s head. Well. That’s what she told herself she was focusing on. “So just leave me be and at least let me pretend it’s some of my choice, okay? And as for the guy you love attacking so much, he’s saved my life in more ways and more times than you genuinely care to know, so back the Hell off.”
Angrily, Zayn shot to his feet.
“You know what? You’re right. So long as you know we’re the ones who stay together, why should I care?” Soph glanced away, trying to hide her pain. There it was again. Her being his slut. “I just want us to go back to normal!”
“We were never normal, that was the problem.” Soph sighed, glancing up at Zayn with a wan smile. “Anything else before you go?”
“Yeah.” Zayn nodded, standing by the door. “Don’t throw someone like me away, when the guy you want to go after will never see you as anything else but mine.” He snorted. “God, I thought marrying you would be better than this.”
“Well,” Soph said evenly, forcing to keep her tears from falling. “I’m sorry I was such a disappointment to you.”
Zayn said nothing, the only sound being his fading footsteps as he increased the distance between them.
It was only when her phone beeped, that Soph snapped out of it – until she read the alert onscreen, telling her the stupid blog that she and Zayn had to run for publicity had posted something new.
Anon: How was your day today? Do anything special? Xx
sorted out some business xx
Business. That was all Soph was now – business, just the way he’d referred to her as more of a thing than an actual person he was meant to be in love with.
“Caffeine.” Soph mumbled to herself, rubbing her face. “I need caffeine.”
She stood and surveyed Aman for a moment, settling on glancing at the machines beside her and nodding to herself. No flashing lights or screeching monitors – she could go and find a cup of strong black coffee so that the feeling of her taste-buds being singed off would concern her more than the devastating realization that her marriage wasn’t going to get much better than it was today.
Soph just decided to check the state of the cuts on Aman’s face, hovering carefully over him with her hair pressed to her neck, when Aman opened one eye and glanced up at her.
“That’s not wrong, you know.” He murmured quietly, closing his eyes again.
Soph watched him for a moment. She wasn’t even shocked that he was awake. In a strange way, it were as if she were too shocked at everything else to be shocked anymore.
“Wanting caffeine?” Soph replied calmly, before furrowing her eyebrows as embarrassment made its way through her numb indifference. “Wait, how much of that were you awake for?”
Aman opened both of his eyes.
“I was awake when you were doing goofy dances and listening to your iPod out of boredom.” Aman told her, watching as Soph opened her mouth to say something, only for all of the blood in her body to rush to her cheeks instead. “I was actually trying to sleep when Zayn walked in and started talking to you.”
“Why didn’t you say something?” Soph managed to say through gritted teeth, her blood slowly beginning to boil. She was abruptly reminded of the contempt she’d once held for him a small while ago – suddenly, New York and Aman’s insufferable attitude all came rushing back.
Aman looked at her seriously.
“Because it was the beginning of a conversation you both need to have.” Aman told her. Soph stood up straight, glancing away. “But he’s right.” Aman added, quieter this time. Soph looked over at him, unimpressed, but silently prompting him to go on. “Don’t risk what you have for something that might not even be there.”
It was as if time froze – an immeasurable amount of time passed between them and all Soph would remember later was how intently she watched Aman’s dark, almost black brown eyes, and if he’d felt the same whirling in his stomach: or, if he’d been waiting for her to look away first.
“Well, the last time I checked, I didn’t have any coffee in the first place.” Soph finally said, slowly walking away. “Hence me getting some.” Soph murmured with raised eyebrows. She had one of Jai’s spare shirts, a red and black plaid, on top of her bloodstained white outfit. “Did you want anything?” Soph forced herself to ask.
Aman watched her seriously.
“No, I don’t.” He replied, almost sadly. “Thanks, though.”
Soph simply nodded, before leaving the room.
For some reason, Aman’s words – not Zayn’s – had left her with tears in her eyes.
“I think I’ve become obsessed with a prostitute.” Liam burst, throwing the door open and walking into a room where Isolde was changing Alanna’s nappy, Niall keeping Alanna occupied by chatting animatedly to her. “Oh, sorry, I thought the boys were here-”
“They’re in the other room.” Niall said slowly, standing to his full height. Alanna let out a gurgle of protest at her father’s attentions being misplaced. “What do you mean a prostitute?”
“Say that word one more time in front of my daughter and so help me God, I will hurt you both.” Isolde warned, glaring at the two of them. “Get out, or shut up.”
Niall nodded and, with a sigh, led Liam into the other room.
“Sorry.” Liam mumbled to Isolde on his way out.
She waited until he’d left the room to reply.
“From the sounds of it, you will be.”
Sure enough, in the adjacent room to Alanna’s nursery, Louis and Harry were sat on the sofa, the TV blaring loudly before them.
“Be subtle, okay?” Niall muttered to Liam under his breath. “Take two, you don’t have to sound crazy.”
Liam nodded in agreement. His entrance had been somewhat... Strange.
“Yo, boys, Liam’s in love with a hooker!” Niall shouted cheerfully, hopping over the sofa back and landing between the two brunettes.
Liam stared at Niall in outrage.
“Like you were going to do any better.” Niall shrugged, turning the volume on the football up.
“You alright, mate?” Harry asked, turning to face Liam. Liam sighed – and so it began. “What’s he talking about?”
“Is that where you’ve been disappearing to this past week?” Louis added, managing to look mildly worried. “Shit, she hasn’t given you an STD or anything, has she?”
“No, but I think she’s on something.” Liam muttered, rubbing his face and taking a seat in the armchair on the boys’ side. Niall said nothing, his eyes glued to the screen, whilst Harry and Louis’ eyes filled with concern. “I don’t even know where to start. She’s... Not like anyone I’ve ever met before.”
“Tell us.” Harry instructed – and so he did.
The random hand-job, Liam’s lonely walks around London, the way he hadn’t been able to forget her face...
Twenty minutes later and Liam watched the boys’ stunned expressions nervously – well, except for Niall, of course. Aside from the occasional bark of laughter at what Liam assumed to be his pathetic-ness, Niall had barely glanced his way.
“I need to meet girls like that.” Louis finally mumbled to himself in shock, staring at the TV screen dumbly. “Saying that, if she’s on something, forget if the fucking paparazzi find out, what if you can’t handle it? That’s whack, Liam.”
“No, I don’t think that’s fair.” Harry frowned. “Why shouldn’t he give her a chance? How do you know she’s not worth the drama?”
“Oh, shut up you prat, you’re just happy that you finally got laid by Rose.” Louis snorted good-naturedly – before freezing as the air in the room stilled, Harry and Liam instantly stiffening.
“... Well.” Niall said slowly, turning to Louis with a fake smile. “Way to put your fucking foot in it, Louis. Well done.”
“Liam, I-” Harry began wide-eyed, leaning forward towards his friend and ready to beseech Liam’s forgiveness – only for Liam to interject before he could.
“It’s okay, Harry.” Liam said, with a slightly forced smile. “Really.”
“Are you sure?” Harry questioned, watching Liam’s unsure expression.
Liam thought for a moment. Although whenever he heard Rose’s name, he was taken over with a strange sort of sadness... Yes. Yes, it really was okay. It was disappointing that he and Rose hadn’t managed to make something of their relationship, but if it had been so easy to break, how long would it really have lasted?
Liam knew he could have had something with Rose. He knew they could have had a future. But it just... Hadn’t meant to be.
“Really.” Liam finally told Harry sincerely, realizing Harry was waiting for an answer with baited breath. “I’m happy for you. I’m just sad you didn’t feel like you could tell me.”
Harry’s shoulders instantly relaxed, Harry himself sighing with relief.
“Thanks, mate.” Harry smiled warmly. “Got a long way to go yet, but... I’m getting there.”
“That’s good.” Liam grinned. “Especially considering how long you’ve been working on getting anywhere with Rose, let alone there.”
“Oi!” Harry yelled, throwing a cushion in Liam’s direction.
Liam caught it deftly, laughing.
“Too soon?” Liam teased, feeling warmth spread through his chest as Harry laughed, a deep, genuine laugh from inside of his chest. It was so strange – the tension had just disappeared between them, just like that. How had Liam been so foolish as to not know it could be that easy?
“Talking of clangers and sensitive things,” Louis began quickly, desperate to recover from his previous blunder. “Harry mate – have you spoken to Soph yet?”
Harry’s smile instantly faded.
“Uh, no, actually.” Harry coughed, looking down at the floor. Niall, Louis and Liam glanced at one another, communicating silently – Harry was hurt by it. “I mean, Zayn isn’t replying to anyone’s texts or calls, either, but it’d be nice to hear her voice, you know? Let her know we all care. Tell her what’s going on with us all.” Instantly, they all thought of Rose.
“In fairness, mate, she’s got a lot going on.” Niall argued, not unkindly. “Can’t be easy. I can’t even imagine something happening to Alanna and look what a wreck I was a couple of weeks back.”
“I know, I know,” Harry conceded. “But... I mean, her and Zayn should be sorting things out now, right? But she’s still not talking to anyone. Why would she be doing that if she’s more chilled?” Harry thought for a moment. “Maybe I shouldn’t have listened to Rose at the airport. Maybe I should have stopped her.” He said grimly to himself.
“So... You don’t think her and Zayn are working things through?” Louis asked, glancing between the boys as he wasn’t met with an immediate answer. “But I thought he went after her?”
“There’s ambiguity in that statement, mate.” Niall sighed, patting Louis on the shoulder and rising to his feet. Whilst Louis looked stunned and entirely alert, Harry and Liam were glancing sadly to the sides. “We all thought he went after her. But now, we’re starting to wonder in what o... You don’t think her and Zayn are working things through?” Louis asked, glancing between the boys as he wasn’t met with an immediate answer. “But I thought he went after her?”
“There’s ambiguity in that statement, mate.” Niall sighed, patting Louis on the shoulder and rising to his feet. Whilst Louis looked stunned and entirely alert, Harry and Liam were glancing sadly to the sides. “We all thought he went after her. But now, we’re starting to wonder in what way.”
“Oh dear God, what are you doing?” Soph mumbled in horror, upon seeing Aman and Jai’s limbs tangled in one another, Jai holding Aman upright, with Aman’s face pressed into Jai’s neck.
“Getting me out of here.” Aman mumbled, grunting with effort as Jai yanked another tube out of his arm. “I’m all taped up and sticky like you wanted, now I’m done here.”
Soph said nothing, too bewildered for words.
It was at that moment that she realized that Jai was watching her thoughtfully.
“What?” Soph demanded, crossly taking a sip of coffee – and trying to hide her wince at the temperature. It was bizarre to think that she hadn’t touched caffeine since before she’d found out she was pregnant – it tasted strange, almost painful, like a bitter memory on her tongue.
“Aren’t you going to help?”
Soph stared at him in shock. Help? Since when was she a part of their gang?
“You’ve proved yourself.” Jai shrugged, the small gesture somehow causing Aman to curse his friend in pain. “Calling me when you saw this loser on his way out to his suicide mission, almost getting groped to keep him awake, walking around in those clothes for the past few hours.” Soph glanced down at herself and blanched at the bloodstains all over her white clothes. It didn’t look anything like what it had been – Soph being decent for once. “Don’t get me wrong – you’re crazy. And stupid.” Jai winked. “But you’re one of us.”
For a moment, Soph didn’t know what to say. She hadn’t known, up until that moment, that Jai’s opinion of her mattered – but suddenly she realized it did, it did matter, because she was so hurt from everything that was going on with Zayn, she was subconsciously seeking approval everywhere else.
Zayn. Even his name hurt – in a strange sort of way, in a way that made her chest feel dull and empty and her head pound.
“When you’re done bonding,” Aman muttered with irritation. “Think you can get me out of here or...?”
“You coming or what?” Jai offered again, offering Aman a hoodie. Soph suddenly realized that Aman was back in his nightwear - a pair of shorts and a T-shirt, that did nothing to hide his many bruises.
“Well... Where are we going?” Soph asked tentatively, the temptation of adventure making her blood itch. Excitement slowly began to build up within her. She couldn’t be sure, but it felt like – it felt like this was what she’d been chasing after, when she’d flown out to New York on a whim. Answers, yes – but to more than just her stupid miscarriage, another mar in her life.
They were answers she had to find out for herself – like what kind of person she was, when she wasn’t just someone’s daughter or sister, or someone’s wife.
The exhilaration of her epiphany almost took her breath away. This was the first time somebody had asked her as her – as just Soph, not her parent’s daughter, not Adam’s big sister, not Soph Malik, Zayn Malik’s new wife.
“Where are we going, bro?” Jai asked Aman cheerfully.
Aman groaned, finally standing upright.
“Home.” He told Jai seriously, in a way that made Soph wonder if he really meant homein the context she understood it. “I want to go home.”
“Oh, Mum, hi-” Rose began, only to be interrupted mid-sentence.
“How could you do this to your sister? Isn’t it bad enough that you had to separate this family by moving away to Sydney – and then to another continent?” Her mother cried shrilly down the phone, Rose instantly taking a silent, deep breath in preparation for the emotional blackmail that was to follow. “And now you’re wrecking her wedding by not being there? Did your father and I really do such a terrible job of raising you? What will our guests think?!”
“Mum,” Rose said patiently. “Sarah can’t talk to me like that, I won’t take it anymore – why can’t you just support me? I’ll be at her wedding, so long as she knows she can’t blame me for everything that doesn’t work out for her-”
“Oh, now you’ve decided to grow a backbone?” Her mother laughed through tears, effectively silencing her daughter. “I don’t give a rat’s ass about this flighty thought of strength of yours, we both know you live your life to please people, Rose!” Taking a deep breath, she continued “Now – call your sister and let her know it was all a misunderstanding, apologize for your behaviour and we can carry on as normal.”
“But I don’t want to apologize.” Rose murmured quietly, her voice tinged with incredulity that became stronger with each syllable. “I have nothing to apologize for!”
“You have everything to apologize for, Rose, and you know it. You know what you did to this family.” Her mother muttered bitterly in response.
For a moment, Rose lost her bearings – she forgot she was shopping for groceries, that she had left the list at home and was trying to remember the right type of milk’s new logo. She was left reeling and stood still in the refrigerated aisle of the local Tesco’s Extra, her heart pounding, not quite able to believe her mother meant what she’d just implied.
“What do you mean?” Rose asked in a low, dangerous voice.
“You know what I mean, Rose, don’t act dumb.”
“I didn’t kill Lily, okay?” Rose managed to say – and before she could help it, she was shouting and tears were welling up in her eyes. “I am sick of all of you blaming me for it! I didn’t kill her!”
“Just because you didn’t do it with your own hands, doesn’t mean you’re not responsible.” Her mother replied in a cold, dead voice. “Now. You have done enough to this family and-”
“Does Dad agree with you?” Rose whispered, ignoring the funny looks as tears dripped down her face. “He wouldn’t, Dad would never-”
“- I will not have you destroy another daughter’s life, I will not have it Rosalind-”
“If I could kill someone, I wish it was you and Sarah!” Rose suddenly screamed. Her vision blurred, her mind forgot itself, her blood was boiling in her veins with outrage and sadness. “You miss Lily? You miss Lily? I miss having a family!” – and before she could stop herself, the words tumbled out of her mouth, the people in the aisle buying milkshake and yoghurt staring at her with wide eyes. “Tell Sarah that she, and Ryan, and you too – you can all go to fucking Hell, because I am not coming to another fucking Sarah party where you all blame me for something you have made me feel the burden of since I was a child! Go to Hell!”
Once she had, Rose clamped a hand over her mouth, her entire body shaking. Oh, God. Oh, God, what had she done?
Rose didn’t hesitate. The way she’d borrowed Soph’s rage to finally defend herself, she took another leaf out of Soph’s books – as people began to timidly walk towards her, her instincts kicked in and Rose ran out of the store, pushing her trolley and hearing the loud crashing noise it made against the shelves as she ran, sobbing, out into the cool London weather.
“Aren’t the family going to go to the hospital and try and find him?” Soph asked Jai, as Aman let out a large cry of victory through a mouthful of kebab roll. “What if they see he’s missing?”
“It’s sorted.” Jai shrugged. It was odd, to see him driving, Soph thought idly to herself. “I told them he needs lots of rest and that he’s out of it on medication. Bee was the only one who was getting persistent – Dadaji got everyone else in line.”
Soph nodded, enjoying the warm evening air on her face.
Within ten minutes, Soph could physically see the change in the neighbourhood. She’d had her suspicions about what Aman meant by home, but this...
Jai parked the car haphazardly between an old building, that through the open door, Soph could see held a large, open courtyard with a sweeping staircase leading to various rooms upstairs, colourful scarves hanging at the threshold instead of doors.
“I could kill for some gujrela.” Aman murmured, already opening the door.
Without any hesitance, Soph and Jai jumped out of the car, careful not to step in the dirt. Upon getting into the car, Jai had offered Soph one of his spare shirts, to hide at least some of her bloodstained clothes – she wore it over them now, a large, red and black plaid shirt that she quite liked.
“Gujrela is disgusting.” Soph muttered in disgust, her nose wrinkling at the mention of the oily, carroty dessert. The boys were walking confidently into the building, the neon sign flashing something in Hindi. “So, this place is...”
“A brothel.” Jai said, at the same time Aman said –
Before Soph could reply, Aman was mobbed by young women in garish saris and bright makeup, fawning over him. There was one in particular – an elderly lady, whose presence instantly brought silence to the worried titters of Aman’s sea of admirers.
Soph hung back, unsure of what to do. Nobody had even noticed her – Jai was being heralded like a hero (which honestly, shouldn’t have been that surprising) and Aman was being loudly fussed over.
That was, until the elderly woman who had kissed Aman’s cheek tenderly turned to face her.
Before Soph had even realized what was happening, she lunged for Soph’s bloodied clothes – which, in turn, made Soph jump back in horror.
“Calm down.” She chuckled lightly. “I’m usually the one that clears up these boys’ mess, though...” She surveyed carefully as Soph mentally struggled to get past her heavy accent, despite being able to understand her Hindi. “They’ve never brought a girlhere before. It’s only ever them.” The old woman cheerfully cocked her head to the side. “Are you Jai’s?”
“But that would make you Aman’s.” The old woman said mischievously, her eyes twinkling.
Before Soph could argue, however – though she planned on doing so less vehemently than before, if that had any relevance – Aman interrupted, successfully regaining all of the attention.
“What’s an injured soldier got to do to get fed around here?” He asked loudly, shaking his head and smiling at Soph’s relieved expression, as his bunch of groupies returned to fawning over him.
“The boys have gone.” Niall said, leaning against the door frame. “Is she asleep?”
Isolde nodded, pressing a light kiss to Alanna’s forehead. One of the considerations in Isolde’s initial stubbornness in regards to moving to London had been the hectic nature of the city, in comparison to the peace of the Irish countryside – but Alanna was her father’s daughter and despite her father and his band-mates’ loud laughter and habits, could sleep through a storm.
“I saw a bottle in the bathroom that I hadn’t seen before.” Niall continued conversationally, instantly making Isolde stiffen. “I didn’t realize you were still in pain for the birth.”
“Well, it’s just going to take me some time to heal, is all.” Isolde told him defensively, only sparing him a glance over her shoulder. Niall hummed, the floorboards creaking as he slowly walked towards her. “Having a baby is hard work. You should try it some time.”
“Would you like me to run you a bath or something?” Niall offered politely, ignoring the snub.
Isolde turned to tell him that she was entirely capable of running a bath herself, thank you – but, upon turning, realized the close proximity between the two of them and suddenly forgot her words.
“I was Googling stuff today, you know. About new mothers and stuff.” Niall continued, his fingers lightly trailing the skin of Isolde’s arm. “It was saying how even though newborn mothers can’t do – well, you know, sex and stuff-” Isolde’s cheek pooled pink and again, just as she went to object to this particular conversation topic, Niall’s proximity stopped her. He rest his hand on Alanna’s cot, his body barely brushing hers, his expression void of any emotion. “- but they’re super hormonal. All the time.”
“Is there any point to this story, or are you just talking for the sake of it?” Isolde finally managed to say, with all the braveness she could muster.
“No, I’m just letting you know that I’ll be taking full advantage of your vulnerability in the next few weeks.” Niall told her innocently, making Isolde instantly flush a deep red. “It’s a fair fight if I warn you, isn’t it?”
Isolde was on the cusp of objecting loudly and with the heavy use of profanities, regardless of Alanna’s impressionable ears so nearby – but before she could, Niall’s lips had briefly pressed against hers, stunning her to such an extent that her body locked in place.
The kiss was soft, gentle – and fleeting. Within seconds it was over and by the time Isolde opened her eyes to find Niall gone, she wondered whether it had even happened at all.
It had never occurred to Soph that a brothel could be so fun.
As Aman had been pulled away to be fed, Jai had explained everything to Soph. The old lady was the owner of the brothel and had known Aman’s mother – she’d been the one to let her in and ensure her safety from the business. She’d watched Aman grow up and eventually, return to his father’s family.
Though, Jai had told Soph, she’d let him go with Kabir at a price. According to Aman, it didn’t matter – she was the type of woman that had to take a little from everyone, so she could survive. But she hadn’t asked for a penny since and treated Aman just as she had when he was a boy – like the maternal grandmother he’d never had, playing with him, scolding him for misbehaving and continuing to feed him despite his protests.
Which was exactly what she’d done.
Ever since he’d been a little boy, the brothel had been Aman’s sanctuary, Soph had been told. If he ever got lost on the way to or from his new school, or jumped out of his fancy town car because he didn’t like nor was used to waiting in the traffic, he would find his way back there – not to what could only be called the Zafar family’s complex, as opposed to house.
When he and Jai had become friends, there had been no need to go to parties – to make friends who they didn’t like, just to get seen in the right areas. Any fun they needed to have could be had in those four walls, and for years, had been where the boys had spent their years.
Of course, Jai had taken full advantage of the fact there were women who he could payto seduce. Jai’s return had been almost as warm a welcome as Aman’s, just in a... Different way. Soph had caught the looks filled with lust from some of the young girls and had been unable to help but roll her eyes slightly at Jai’s exploits. Within minutes, Soph had heard various tales of Jai’s debauchery; the way he would trick the brothel out of business in how the girls would throw themselves at him, how he’d party with them and their hidden children for fun, how he’d sometimes bring Raj so they could all make friends. If it wasn’t so mad, it would have been strangely heart-warming.
Aman had always been the more quiet one. From what Soph could gather, away from Jai’s biased perspective, he was the charming one; the one with a dimpled smile and easy flirtation that he never acted upon. He’d fix things within the moderately large house, even as a youngster – fixing pipes with Jai, rigging the wiring, mending and replacing the rickety furniture. He’d never asked for payment, he’d never slept with any of the girls, the prostitutes had told her – he’d been their friend. The only thing he’d ever demanded was that his mother’s possessions be kept in storage until the day when he felt ready to let the brothel go.
In a weird way, despite all of the others being unable to understand it, Soph felt as if she could relate to Aman’s decision to not move his mother’s things. This place, as garish as it was with its bright signs, was more than just another whore-house: it was a home, clean and well-equipped, with children’s toys hidden away during working hours. This was the last tether Aman had to his mother, a woman who was a victim of circumstance – someone who had trusted in the concept of love so readily, only to be hurt.
That resonated with Soph the most. She hadn’t even been sure of her feelings for Zayn when she’d married him, and look at her circumstances – the only difference between her and Aman’s mother, was that she’d genuinely believed in what she was risking everything for. She’d had that courage.
Soph, on the old lady’s command, had been shown to a room – a safe room, they’d laughingly told her – and changed into a new set of clothes brought out especially for her, while her own were washed. The washing machine, the old lady – simply called Madame – had told her, had been a gift of Aman’s.
“It can wash all different temperatures.” She boasted. “And we have a tumble dryer. The boys make such a mess these days and with the amount of sheets we have to clean, it was a gift!”
Soph had kept on Jai’s shirt, but changed onto the flowing skirt laid out for her. It was very pretty, actually – it was a dark pink, almost red, made of silk with black trimming on the end. One of the girls had chatted amicably to her as she dressed behind the screen, before rinsing out her hair for her.
She’d also given Soph a small, sharp dagger – for safety. Soph had tried to refuse, but the girl had insisted and, after tucking it into her skirt, Soph soon thought nothing of it.
Initially, Soph had been uncomfortable with how much they all helped her – she wasn’t some sort of lady, or important person that these girls had to behave so nicely -, but Jai had told her to relax. She was the first girl Jai and Aman had ever shown the brothel too and although Soph couldn’t understand the significance, the girls did.
Things had picked up after that.
Upon being dressed and clean and no longer looking like she’d killed a man even though she’d saved him, Jai had introduced Soph to everyone properly. The girl who had kindly helped Soph was called Sanjana – and the girl who had been giving her dagger eyes since she’d walked in was called Malaya.
Soph would later find out that Malaya had known Aman since he was a child – they’d grown up in the brothel together. And whilst Malaya had wanted to follow in Aman’s mother’s footsteps and run the brothel’s accounts – and maybe even one day leave – Madame had been sure to stamp on that dream. Now, although Aman still remained her friend, Malaya’s occupation was a rift between them.
Right now, Sanjana was not yet a prostitute, but on her way up. She danced during the shows and did things for money, but not quite yet at the stage of the others. Maybe that’s why she and Soph got along so well, Soph had thought dryly – everything she was in a marriage, Sanjana was essentially being paid for.
Soph couldn’t help but feel a newfound respect for prostitutes everywhere. Everyone had their own story, their own reasoning. And really, had Zayn left her in a position to judge?
Soph had quickly dismissed the thought. She wouldn’t think of him, not now – not in this exciting new world of adventure she’d immersed herself in.
Jai had paid Madame to allow none other than regular customers in for the night and brought all of the children out of their rooms. He’d blasted music and danced with them all – and dragged Soph, too, telling her that the last act she had to perform to be a member of his and Aman’s gang, was to dance with him and the prostitutes.
“Because you have not lived,” Jai had told her, shrugging off his jacket and offering her his hand. “Until you’ve danced on the dark side, baby.”
Soph had laughed at his cheesiness – but soon, she’d been dancing with the others, the prostitutes teaching her their best moves as she howled with laughter at Jai’s friendly imitation of them. Aman had sat at the sidelines, laughing as Madame forcibly fed him more food, filming the two of them on his phone.
“Blackmail purposes.” Aman had called out to them, when Jai had noticed as he spun Soph dramatically around. “That and my personal entertainment.”
Now, however, things were settling down. Jai had disappeared into one of the rooms with one of the dancers – not Sanjana, Soph noticed with mild relief –, the children were being put to bed and Aman was nowhere to be seen.
“Do you know where Aman’s gone?” Soph finally asked Malaya, not seeing anyone else who she recognized. “It’s late and although it’s been fun, I should probably get home.”
Malaya sniffed, muttering something about Soph’s Urdu. Soph pointedly ignored her.
“Not that I’m your keeper or anything, but he went home. He said Jai would take you back.” Malaya told her rudely. “But... Jai could be there for a few hours. You must know how he gets.”
Soph ignored the implication. Rude cow.
“I could give you a ride.”
Soph turned at the voice, one she didn’t recognize. It was of a man – someone who couldn’t be much older than Aman or Jai, with stubble framing his jaw. He looked familiar somehow – despite his leer grin being something Soph would love to forget.
“Yes, yes, we’ve met before.” The man continued, stepping forward. He must have read her expression. “At the fight, earlier?”
Soph’s body stiffened. Yes, she had seen him – he’d been one of the men that had tried to grab at her as she’d fought to get into the cage.
“I don’t need a lift, thank you.” Soph said tightly, turning back to Malaya – who seemed to be finding Soph’s conversation amusing. “Can’t you get someone to tell Jai we need to go?” Zayn would be wondering where she was, and the last thing she needed was for him to orchestrate a man-hunt... And for the media to find out she’d been hanging out in a brothel.
“Of course not!” Malaya snapped. “For God’s sake, it’s not that far from where you’re staying. Why don’t you just walk? Do you remember the way?”
“Yes.” Soph nodded. She liked noticing landmarks, she could easily find her way back. It was just... “Fine. But let Jai know he’s going to get a tight slap from me when he sees me next, okay?”
Malaya nodded, watching as Soph headed for the door – and smiling as the man left too, shortly after her.
Two moments later, Aman appeared, yawning loudly.
“Those meds.” He muttered. “Laya, have you seen Soph? The girl I was with?”
“Oh, she’s somewhere around here.” Malaya shrugged, smiling at the use of her childhood nickname. “Come on! We have catching up to do!”
Aman said nothing, nor did he move. Instead, he watched Malaya carefully.
“Malaya.” He began, his voice serious. “What did you do?”
It was almost silent on the dusty main road.
Soph hugged herself, the sound of her soft footsteps and the wind eerily uncomfortable for her. Her stomach curled at the pit of her stomach – she didn’t feel very good, like something terrible was about to happen.
It was all of the news stories, she told herself. All of the horrifying stories she’d heard about rape in India. But this wasn’t a big city – and so Soph shrugged it off, telling herself she was just being pathetic. Her luck couldn’t get any worse, right?
“I did offer to drive you.”
Soph glanced up, her eyes flashing with anger, as she recognized the man from the brothel. He was standing a little way behind her, smiling pleasantly.
“I’m fine, thank you.” Soph said tightly, continuing.
“It’s dangerous at night for a girl like you, you know.” Soph stopped again, her hands tightening into fists by her chest. “Anything could happen. You should take care.”
Soph said nothing for a few moments, evaluating her situation. Usually, she wouldn’t be so cold – she’d be more friendly, to try and stop the other party from becoming antagonized.
But somehow, Soph didn’t think that would work this time.
“Thank you, I’ll bear that in mind.” Soph replied evenly, going to turn away again – only for the man to lean forward and snatch her wrist.
Without hesitation, Soph went to yank herself away – but his grip was tight and as he pulled himself closer, Soph couldn’t help but shrink back.
“You know, if you were a bit nicer to me, I could look after you.” The man told her soothingly, his breath smelling of alcohol and tobacco. It was a foul smell. His face twisted into a cruel leer. “At a price, of course.”
“Listen, you sack of crap, if you don’t get off of me, you’re going to be in big trouble.” Soph warned, her voice shaking slightly. “If I get back to the house safe, there are people there who would be happy, who’d reward you for it-”
“Oh, but you silly little girl,” Soph cringed as he placed his hand on the curve of her backside, thrashing against him. “The only reward I want is between your legs.”
Soph’s eyes widened in horror as his hand squeezed, and he proceeded to push her towards the wall beside them.
“No. No, no, get off me, GET OFF OF ME!” Soph screamed, trying with all of her might to push him off of her. It was of no use – his weight was larger than hers and he had her pinned, his hand crawling down her legs for the hem of her skirt. “No! NO! Help,somebody, please HELP!”
“Now, now, if you’re going to be loud, I’m going to have to discipline you.” The man licked his lips. “Though, I may enjoy that.” He winked, slowly pulling the skirt above her knees.
“You bastard, get off of ME!” Soph yelled – only to let out a small puff of air as he hit her in the stomach, the wind knocked out of her.
Soph tried to catch her breath back as they both dissolved into the darkness of the wall’s shadow, just about beyond the sphere of light from the nearby lamp. She fought to keep her eyes open – she could feel him positioning himself between her legs, his sweaty hand clamped on her thigh, his disgusting breath blowing in her face.
“No.” Soph managed to murmur again, wheezing breathlessly. “No, get off of me, no, I don’t want this-”
The man simply chuckled, the sound of his zipper causing bile to rise in Soph’s throat.
And then one of his hands had cupped the space between her legs, the other groping her breasts.
Soph wasn’t sure what happened next – but she lost her senses, and all she knew was that she was doing something.
With all of her might, Soph shoved him away. She fell, as he stumbled – and picked up a rock, as he pulled her angrily back to her feet, she slammed it into his nose.
Her head hurt. She felt dizzy. And dirty, oh, she felt so dirty –
Soph kicked and punched as he wound his arm around her waist, angrily shoving her back – only this time, he was struggling to stay standing and that gave Soph hope.
His hand grazed her stomach, the way Aman’s had at Holi – but she felt it this time, and it made her sick.
No. No, no, she wasn’t doing this.
With an unadulterated rage Soph didn’t know she had in her, she shoved him away, hitting him again in the nose.
They surveyed each other for a moment, the man cursing.
“I’m not letting you do this to me.” Soph told him, her breath ragged with exertion and anger. “I would rather die than let you do this to me!”
The man simply stepped forward, his eyes like a predator’s, ready to hurl back against the wall and ruin her – only for him to suddenly freeze, inches away from Soph’s face.
“I – am – not – letting – you- do this to me!” Soph screamed, a dull part of her brain registering someone calling her name. She was hitting him now, his shoulders, his neck, his chest, anywhere she could reach. “No! No! Not again!”
“Soph, stop!” Soph screamed as loudly as she could, going to hit the arm that wound around her waist, dragging her away. “Soph, stop, it’s me – ow – Soph, stop!”
Soph froze, recognizing the voice.
“Aman?” She whispered, turning – and seeing concerned brown eyes looking down at her. “He – he-” Soph turned, pointing at the man – but he wasn’t there anymore.
That was when something slipped out of Soph’s hand. Something hot and wet and sticky, that made a dull thud on impact.
Soph let out a small squeak of horror as she saw her bloodstained hands... And the body not too far away from her feet, the one twitching with blood pouring out of its wounds.
The knife Sanjana had given her.
“Oh my God, what did I do, Aman, I- I, no, I-” Soph began to say, her legs crumbling from underneath her, Aman’s arm unable to keep her from falling to the floor. There was blood everywhere, everywhere, her hands were red with blood, SOMEBODY ELSE’S BLOOD – what had she done, oh no, what had she done, what had she done, no, no, NO –
And then, as the body before her finally stopped twitching, Soph let out a large, bloodcurdling scream at the realization of her murder.
