#Chapter One#

I took a sip from my scalding cup of tea and cringed at its bitterness. Damn Lia and her too-healthy lifestyle. ‘Tea is a remedy and should not be soiled by the use of those blasted sugar cubes!’. Her words, not mine.

Looking up, I plastered on a smile and cleared my throat. “So ah…what would you say your hobbies are, Mr Zayed?” I asked, redirecting my attention back to the man sitting in front of me.

Ibrahim, or as he insisted on being called, Mr Zayed, looked at me as if I had just cursed his own mother. “Hobbies? Who has time for hobbies these days? Especially when you work in a field like mine,” he replied arrogantly. 

Was this guy serious? “Nothing at all?” I prodded, keeping my tone polite. “I mean, maybe you like to read in your spare time, or go for a run?” 

He scoffed and then looked at me pityingly. “Well, if you insist on an answer…work would be my hobby. I give one-hundred percent dedication to my job. I expect you wouldn’t know, but being a lawyer is not easy.” He took a sip from his own cup of tea, before sitting back and actually crossing his leg over the other! 

“Right,” I drawled disappointingly. 

The only reason I was making the slightest effort to keep the chatter flowing with this man, was because my father had seemed particularly keen on him and as always, a girl trusts her father’s judgement. I don’t know where my father’s instincts were hiding with this one though.

Silence enveloped us after that, as I ran out of questions and ideas that would keep the conversation running. It didn’t help that he just sat there like a headless chicken and waited on me to strike up a topic of interest. I looked over at Ziad for help, but he was on the other side of our magnanimous living room, a book perched on his lap. He looked enthralled and it would be quite rude of me to call out to him now. 

So instead, I studied, with great curiosity, the Turkish styled china cup I was holding. It’s white, gold and blue designs were woven into a geometric fashion. I knew I had to buy them as soon as I saw them in the warehouse. 

“Why are you wearing a ring on your finger?” he demanded suddenly. 

I looked at him oddly. “Uhm, because I like jewellery?” It came out more as a question than a statement.  

“Someone could mistake you for being engaged. I really wouldn’t recommend it.” There was so much stupidity in his comment, that I couldn’t even fathom a response; so I dignified him with none. I just sat there and stared at him like my gaze was the cure for his imbecilic illness. 

Just as I heard an awkward cough from Ibrahim (in my mind, at least, I refused to call him Mr Zayed), Lia walked over and delighted us with two plates filled with sweets. She looked between us questioningly, probably wondering why we weren’t saying anything to each other. I gave her a look that said I’d tell her everything later.

“Thank you Lia.” I smiled at her and immediately picked up my fork and plate.

“Don’t hesitate to let me know if you need anything else.” She directed her words to me, before smiling in return and heading back out of the living room. 

“Are you on a first name basis with all your servants?” Ibrahim asked, both his words and tone condescending. I looked into his hard, dark brown eyes and seriously wondered if this guy was normal.

“Excuse me?” I gritted out, finding it very hard to remain courteous at this stage. 

“You knew her name,” he pointed out, eyebrows pointed. 

“What is wrong with that?” I questioned, not angrily, yet not calmly.  

He laughed. He actually laughed in my face. The instant he saw my displeased expression, he sobered up. “Err, forgive me. What I meant, was that a lady such as yourself, should not be intermingling at such an intimate level with basic staff. It is not becoming for a person of your stature.” 

I was gripping onto my plate and fork so hard, I’m sure the metal would begin to bend soon. I took a deep breath, placing the plate with the fork back onto the table. Straightening up, I peered straight into Ibrahim's eyes as I spoke. “Let me get something straight here, Mr Zayed. That lady you just saw, is not a servant. She is an employee. An employee, who is respected and treated with honour and dignity in this household. How unbecoming of you, to walk in here with an air of superiority and put yourself, and me for which I did not ask, on a pedestal. If it is such an outrageous thing to merely know of your employee’s name in your eyes, then I am ashamed on your behalf. I am utterly disgusted, Mr Zayed. For that reason, I would appreciate it greatly if you would leave.” 

To describe his expression as shocked, would be an understatement. His eyes were wide and his mouth was gaping open, like a fish drinking water. I crossed my arms over my chest and waited for him to leave. I stood up and he instantly snapped out of it, getting to his feet with me. 

“Sameena, truly, I never meant to offend you,-“ 

“Oh, but you did,” I interjected. “As soon as you walked through our door and looked at your surroundings with judgemental eyes, you offended me.” His mouth fell open again and I resisted the urge to laugh.

“Is there a problem here?” Ziad asked, coming to stand next to us. Pfft, where was he a few minutes ago when I really needed him?

“Not at all. Mr Zayed was just leaving now.” I sent him a tight-lipped smile.

“Ah, right. Thank you for your time and send my farewell to your father then.” He glanced at me nervously, as if I would snap at him again. Well of course he was nervous. Getting kicked out of the Prime Ministers house, by his own daughter at that, wouldn’t exactly go down well for him. I knew there were a bunch of paparazzi outside, waiting to pounce on him. No doubt, they’d begin to question why he had left after only being inside for thirty minutes.

Yes, thirty minutes. 

The paps would be crushed they wouldn’t be getting a traditional love story from me.

“I will.” 

We both proceeded to walk him to the door and I happily watched as the security guard shut our door behind him. Flashes could be seen before the door closed, mixed in with urgent yelling. Being all too familiar with their antics, I dismissed them. I shuddered dramatically and shook my hands and body out. “That was awful,” I groaned. 

“What was it this time? Too stubborn? Too boring? Too ugly?” I looked over at my twin-brother with annoyance.

“Too pretentious,” I mumbled. 

“I thought you loved pompousness in a man,” he retorted sarcastically. 

I rolled my eyes. “Yeah, it’s my favourite personality trait.” 

Ziad chuckled. “Nah, but seriously, that dude was dry. I cracked one of my funniest jokes and he didn’t even laugh!” he exclaimed, speaking as if the man had committed mass murder.  

“Oh! How rude of him!” I asserted seriously. 

“I know right? Those jokes were created right here,” he tapped his head, “in a web of gold.” 

“OK, calm down. You’re getting ahead of yourself.”  

“Yeah, yeah.” He slung his arm around my shoulders and we both began to automatically walk in the same direction. It must’ve been a weird subconscious connection but in that instant, we both felt peckish and so the kitchen was our destination. 

We headed down two flights of marble staircases until we walked into the brightly lit kitchen. The workers all looked up and smiled before casually resuming their work of cleaning up for the day. They were used to us coming in and out whenever we were hungry and I made sure that they were fully aware we could plate our own food every now and then.  

“Where’s Sarah and Abir?” I asked, referring to his wife and six-month old child. Abir was at the perfect age now. She was smiley, playful and delectably chubby. 

“Sarah’s still at her mums house,” he stated. He pulled out the strawberry cheesecake ice-cream from the freezer and my mouth instantly watered. Since I was so angry, I hadn’t even touched the sweets Lia brought out for Ibrahim and I. Eyes gleaming, we both picked up our forks and began to munch on our favourite dessert. 

“I don’t think there is anything in this world that tastes better than this,” I decided. 

“What about Nutella filled doughnuts,” Ziad asked, looking horrified.

“Not even! This is just the right amount of sugariness, whereas Nutella doughnuts put you into a food coma.” 

“Good point,” he agreed, pointing his fork at me.  

“My points are always good.” I smiled mischievously at him as I flattened my skirt out and sat up straighter in my chair.

“You’re so humble, dear sister.” He poked me with his fork and then shoved a large piece into his mouth. I swear, we always had to have at least five packets of this stuff at any one time, since he consumed them like water.  

“Ow!” I poked him back in revenge. He then poked me back. So I poked him again. And thus, a poking war ensued. Just as I was contemplating stabbing him in the eye, dad walked in. We both stilled and looked up at him sheepishly, stupid smiles on our faces.

“Salam baba,” we chimed at the same time. 

He sighed and shook his large head, thick bushy eyebrows cocked in disapproval. “Looking at both of you, you wouldn’t think your twenty two years old. One of you a husband and parent at that,” he added, looking at Ziad pointedly.  

“Aww, come on. I know you want to play too!” I joked, walking up and hugging him around the waist. He was my big bear.  

“I think I’ll pass.” My very disgruntled big bear. “Oh, I completely forgot! How was your meeting with Mr Zayed? He had a lot of potential when I was acquainted with him the other day. Did things go well?” baba asked, suddenly energised and curious.

I looked down guiltily, as I hated seeing the look of raw disappointment cross my father’s face every time I told him it failed with a potential suitor. “Not quite so well. He had some, err, qualities which I found to be rather repulsive.” 

“Oh,” he said, his voice deflating. “So I assume we are not to see him again?” 

“No baba.” I chanced a look at his face to find him giving me a soft smile.  

“That’s alright princess, if he’s not the one, then he’s not the one. Your happiness is all I want.” He kissed me on the forehead and then turned slightly to head back out. “It’s been quite an exhausting day. I’m off to bed. See you children in the morning.”

“Goodnight!” we both called after him again. I blinked back the water in my eyes and turned back to Ziad and my cheesecake. We ate in silence for a few minutes. 

 I was deep into my thoughts when Ziad broke my reverie. “Hey Meena?” Ziad asked. 

“Hmm?” I looked into his dark green eyes questioningly. 

“Stop feeling so guilty whenever you have to decline someone. Prince charming isn’t going to just rock up on your door.” 

“I know,” I sighed. “I just feel like they all view this as some sort of game.” I watched as he ran a hand through his honey coloured hair before glancing at me with a knowing look.

“Just because others have hurt you in the past, it doesn’t mean every suitor that visits has the same intention. You have to cut ‘em some slack.” 

“You’re right,” I smiled. “Maybe I am being a bit too uptight.” He grasped my hand from across the table and gave it a soft squeeze. “Not with Ibrahim though. He’s just completely out of the question.” 

“I think you mean, Mr Zayed,” he mocked. We both threw our heads back and laughed, even though we both knew it was very wrong to be humoured at the expense of slandering someone. “Man, I’m funny,” he exhaled, rubbing his stomach.   

I was about to reply with my usual sarcastic comment, when I saw Lia heading our way. She was one of the older workers here, who had been working with our family for a long time. Almost twenty-five years, if I remember correctly. When Samir, my older brother, Ziad and I had lost mum at a young age, Lia made sure that we were always taken care of. Not merely by ensuring we had food on the table, but by offering us her time and dedication, her wisdom and advice. Even though she knew she could never fulfil the place of our mother, it didn’t stop her from continuing on with every tradition my mother held. From tucking us into bed, to gardening and playing hide and seek with us; she always made sure to participate in our favourite activities and just be there. She would always turn up to our performances and awards nights, standing alongside dad, observing us with motherly pride. Well of course there’d be the ten security guards standing behind them, but let’s forget they exist for a moment. 

I missed mum so much, that it hurt. However, I was grateful that our family was blessed with someone like Lia. Someone who found it in their heart to give up having their own family and continuing their own independent life, just to be there for us. I personally believed, that such an act of kindness could not be repaid. 

“That did not look fun,” she commented, pulling me from my trip down memory lane. Since all the kitchen workers were women, me and Ziad were sitting off in a corner where his back was to them. I saw her discreetly roll down her sleeves and fix any hair that might’ve fallen out of her hijab, before facing the both of us.

“It wasn’t,” I groaned, pulling into her open arms for a hug. “It was horrible!”  

“Drama queen,” Ziad mumbled under his breath. Lia chuckled and I punched him on the arm. 

“Lia! Do something about this!” he exclaimed, glaring at me. 

“You provoked her,” she said, shrugging her shoulders. 

“Whatever. I’m going to pick up Sarah now,” he stated, glancing at his watch. ”I’ll leave you ladies to chat.” 

“Ooh, bring Abir to me once you’re back! I haven’t had my daily dosage of cuteness yet.” I beamed at his annoyed expression. 

“No. Stay away from my daughter, hideous wretch.” He flicked his wrist in a wave. “Salam!” 

“Salam!” Lia and I yelled back. 

“So,” she began, eyes twinkling curiously. “Tell me everything.”

####

The next morning, I was awoken by a heavy weight on my chest and water sliding down my face. Confused. I’m confused, was all my brain could generate in the morning. I groaned and tried to push whatever was on me off, when I heard a screech. My eyes flew open and I was met with my niece’s glowing green ones, before I was slapped across my cheek. 

OW. 

I heard laughter from the doorway and I grumpily sat up in bed, pulling Abir onto my lap with me. I wiped her drool off my face, before facing Sarah who was leaning against the doorway, arms crossed over her chest. She shook her head at me and laughed again. “I wish you saw your face when you woke up.”  

I scowled. “You know I’m not a morning person. And that wasn’t exactly a graceful awakening.” Abir began tugging at my shoulder length hair and I pulled it out of her grasp. “Naughty,” I said.  

“Well maybe you shouldn’t sleep in till the afternoon. Don’t forget you have class in an hour.” 

“Erkh, uni. Why does it never end?” At least this was my last semester.

“That’s life, my dear.” I leant my head back against the board of my bed and closed my eyes for a few more seconds. I felt two palms encase my cheeks and a small body standing on my lap. 

I opened my eyes again and smiled at Abir. She was looking at me thoughtfully, probably assuming I was sad. She always grabbed someone’s cheeks when she thought they were upset, and her way of ‘cheering’ them up, would be to slobber all over their cheeks and mouth. “No slobber today, princess.” I picked her up and perched her on my hip, as I finally emerged from bed. She clapped her hands and screeched again and this time, I couldn’t help but kiss her chubby cheek. 

“Did it work? Did she wake up?” Ziad questioned, jogging to where Sarah was standing, on the edge of my door. 

“Yep. She also gave her a nice smack across the cheek!” Sarah shook with laughter again and I just grumbled nonsense as I walked around my room, trying to find my slippers with Abir still perched on my hip. 

“Yeah! You go girl! I trained her well,” Ziad cheered. I threw one of my heavy sports shoes at him. 

“Ow!”  

“Oops, sorry Sarah!” I peeked my head from the closet and grinned. “I have bad aim.” 

“You don’t say,” Ziad retorted, rubbing his wife’s arm.  

“Ziad, you know I don’t like seeing your face in the morning, so why are you here and not at work?” 

He exhaled tiredly before sending me a dry look. “I’m leaving now, I came to bid farewell to my wife and child.”

“And your dear sister?”  

“No.” I chuckled and handed Abir back to Ziad. He hauled her onto his shoulders and she squealed excitedly, clapping her hands again. I left the couple to whisper to each other and headed to my bathroom to freshen up for the day.  

Ninety percent of the time, I absolutely loved uni. The reason as to why I was dreading it today, was because I had Politics1040 and Mr Ridwan taught that course. And for some unknown reason, Mr Ridwan loved to pick on me in class, pestering me with questions and ‘what do you say about this huh?’ or ‘how would you tackle this economic problem?’. I had an inkling that he strongly opposed the way in which my father ran this country, which was why I seemed to be his topic of interest every class.  

Like I didn’t get enough people staring at me, what with the constant two security guards by my side. 

“Today,” Mr Ridwan started, “I want to trace back our steps and refresh our minds on the roots of Politics. As you all know, your mid-semester exam is in two weeks, so I think a quick revisionary lesson today will be useful.” He paused to drink from his bottled water before continuing. “OK, someone tell me, how did Politics begin?” When no one answered him straight away, he rephrased his question. “Maybe that was a tad vague. Let me put it this way…where was the first emergence of any form of Politics we see in History?”  

Still no one answered.  

I sighed and raised my hand. 

Mr Ridwan’s beady eyes instantly zoomed in on me. “Yes Sameena?”  Everybody turned in their seats to look at me. 

“I’m not too sure, but I believe Politics can be traced back to ancient clans and tribes, where power and hierarchy were used.” I fumbled with the pin on my hijab and waited for his response. 

“Yes, you’re quite right. In fact, Plato and Aristotle both wrote works on Politics which still influence governments up until this day.” He continued lecturing and I was quite shocked he didn’t provoke me today. Maybe he finally got over it. 

I kept up with my note-taking throughout the class and paid extra attention. Even though I didn’t particularly like Mr Ridwan, I had to admit that his teaching methods were great and he knew how to keep everyone captivated.

“I’ll leave you with this thought: what is the real aim of governments?” His eyes flickered to me briefly before he turned around and everyone began packing their equipment. I frowned at his question and before I could contemplate it any further, my phone vibrated in the pocket of my skirt.  

“Hello?” 

“Sameena?”

“Sarah what’s wrong?” I asked upon hearing her pained voice. It sounded like she’d been crying.  

“It’s Abir. We’re in the hospital, can you come please?” My blood ran cold and I gripped my phone tighter.

“What happened?” I chocked out, quickly running out of the lecture hall and heading towards our parked car. The guards were at my heels, no doubt confused. 

“I-I don’t know,” she stuttered. “I was breastfeeding her, when all of a sudden she started going red and her face was swelling. She was screaming and I didn’t know what to do. She’s in the emergency room still.” 

“OK just calm down, I’ll be there soon. Where’s Ziad?”

“He flew out of state today but he’s flying back in now. It’s only a one hour flight, he should be here soon.” 

“OK. She’ll be fine insha’Allah,” I whispered into the phone. “See you soon.”  

“Salam.” She cut the phone and I jumped into the car. 

“To the hospital please,” I told the security guard. 

Please, ya Allah, let her be okay.

####