"He didn't mean it." Azaan's soothing baritone does nothing to placate the guilt burning a hole through my belly.

"Yes he did. And I agree with every word." I responded dully.

After learning about my history with Musa, and his possible involvement with Pareeshae's mysterious disappearance, Faris had (for the lack of a better phrase), lost his cool.

He blamed me for endangering his wife and baby, by association.

He raged at Azaan for being too calm about this tragedy.

He nearly killed my security guards for their cluelessness about her disappearance.

He yelled at me for crying too much.

He was hurt, scared and crazed at the same time.

Naturally, I was at the top of his shit-list. And I wordlessly took every venom-laced accusation he threw my way, because I knew in my heart that I deserved every bit of it.

Azaan was torn between wanting to protect me, and wanting to humor his distraught best friend.

Faris paced like a caged lion in Azaan's compact living room, where me, Azaan, and Daniyal had gathered to contemplate the best way to find Shay. He has been pacing like this for the past 48 hours. Because it's been 2 whole days since Shay was taken away from us. During that time, Faris hasn't slept, eaten, or shaved. He looks like a prison escapee with the unkempt stubble, unruly hair and the murderous mania fueling his vigil.

"Tell me again, what that bastard said." Faris's rough voice snapped me out of my drowsy misery of waiting for a phonecall. I uncurled myself from the couch I had collapsed earlier on.

"Let her rest, brother. You've heard this ten times already," Azaan murmured softly, laying a cautious hand against Faris's arm. Daniyal just shook his head, and walked off for a smoke. 

"Fuck her rest," Faris shrugged the hand off, snarling with impatience: "I need to hear it again."

"Maybe you should rest too. You're not helping Shay by acting like an asshole!" Azaan's tone sharpened, and I sensed another bout of bickering coming on.

"It's okay, Azaan. I don't mind repeating." I rasped quietly, clearing my throat to rid myself of the croaky fatigue clogging my words.

"Yesterday morning, I got a phone call from Musa, asking to meet up. Apparently, he had been sending me flowers, as a misguided attempt to endear himself to me." I began. Azaan growled out a curse when he heard this part.

"Musa wanted to settle the matter of my brother and Chandi in a more private setting. I have no idea what he had in mind because I shut him down unequivocally. I didn't think to discuss it with anyone, because this isn't the first time he has tried underhanded tricks to make me lose focus on winning publicly. In case you don't know; he is the one who got my mother's company banned from a couture event, just out of petty malice..."

I swallowed thickly. If Musa wanted to break my spirit once and for all, he had succeeded. I was tired of fighting. I was too tired to repeat the same words over and over for Faris, the private security team, my lawyers...

I drew strength from Azaan's encouraging nod, as I continued narrating the whole sordid tale.

"Then after Shay went missing, I got a text from the same number that indicated that he was involved. And then another that told me to wait for his "Social Call", because it's in my best interest." I clutched my phone closer, stroking the sleek black surface of the blank screen. We have been waiting for the social call ever since.

According to the police, Shay isn't an "Official missing person" until 48 hours have passed. Because of the corruption rampant in the police force, and the extent of Musa's connections, we were advised by Azaan's Dad that we shouldn't rely on the police for genuine help.

"I have a close network of private investigators. Ex-ISI and military men. Honorable. I trust them to handle the case. But you shouldn't be too optimistic just yet..." Azaan's soft spoken father had informed us. Apparently politically motivated kidnappings were best handled strategically. Privacy and discretion were important.

"Why can't we just prosecute him for his involvement? Storm the bastard's place? Force him to give her back?" Faris asked hoarsely. "Isn't he hoping to be elected next year? A public accusation is something he can't afford."

"It's not so simple, son." Azaan's Baba gently but firmly shook his head, "Shah isn't stupid. He most likely used freelance criminals for this, who can never be traced directly to him or his family. An accusation will only push his hand too soon. Let him make his ransom demand. That's when we get him...Meanwhile, Layla beti, I want to have a list of all the security guards that were with you that day. Something from the College CCTV footage that day, just isn't adding up."

"I'll ask Fahad for the names." I had hurried to comply with his demand. Anything to get a clue of Shay's disappearance. Uncle left soon after that, leaving me Azaan and Daniyal to babysit Faris.

My security team was reinforced by more guards who surrounded Azaan's compound. They expected an attack on me next; a fact that had made my family and Azaan paranoid to an unbearable extent.

"Tell me more about the fucker." Faris's cold demand makes me shiver with a cold that isn't real. I draw my knees up under my chin, covering myself up in the decorative afghan Azaan had thrown on his couch.

If I weren't in the miserable pits of despair, I would have appreciated the neat compact space that Azaan called home. He had rented a single story wing of a restored colonial minister's mansion. The huge public space near Clifton, had been auctioned off to a real estate mogul in 1980's, who had restored and renovated the colonial architecture, and rented off sections of the space. Among the 6 families renting the space, Azaan was the only bachelor in the compound.

The old stone walls, and french doors gave the space its beautiful vintage feel, while Azaan's tasteful decorating had given the space, just the right combination of modern and eclectic. The color schemes were classically masculine, without overpowering the senses. With art pieces, books, framed posters and photographs, Azaan's personality was stamped over every wall, every coffee table, and I loved the house for that reason alone. Unfortunately, my body was racked by chills I couldn't seem to expel. And even the comfort of being surrounded by Azaan, couldn't quite make me warm inside. Just imagining Pareeshae in Musa's perverted clutches, made me sick to my stomach.

"Tell me about him, Layla." Faris's tone softened a little bit when he saw me curl up for warmth. "What does he have against you? What do you mean to him?"

I was running.

Again.

My heart hammered in my chest, as I pushed my tiny legs to outrun his longer ones.

"Run Laylee. Faster. I want to catch you!" Musa's whispered threat is laced with excitement. He is enjoying this.

I slow down when we reach our garage. Musa never touches me around other people, and I hopelessly wish that Khan is on duty. Unfortunately, the huge space is empty save for Mama's Mercedes and one of Dad's vintage Buick.

A whimper of misery escapes my throat when I feel Musa's exploring touch on my back. His mouth is hot on my ears as he twists my skinny arms behind me back.

"When will you stop trying to run, Laylee? When will learn to lose?"

His voice is changing now, and It's deeper than it was a year ago. Puberty is kind to him. He is a handsome boy. My very own Princely torment.

I want to scream and kick, but I instinctively know that this will only prolong our "Play time".

I suppress a sob when an unbidden thought comes into my head; 'Just this one time, give up, Layla. It will be over faster, if you don't fight.' It will be so much easier not to fight. Not to run every time he comes for me. If I give up now, he might become bored of me and stop playing altogether...

But the second his hands start wandering where they shouldn't; I can't help myself. I struggle against him, with weak shoves, tearful pleadings, threats--anything at all.

I guess I'm just not made to give up easily.

I am made to fight until it hurts every part of my body and soul.

"Will you ever stop fighting me, Layla?" Musa laughs cruelly when he's done violating me.

"Never!"

"Layla?" Faris's voice enters into my past reflection, snapping me out of my reverie.

"I--I can't." I choked out, not meeting his outraged eyes. How can I tell him, that his wife is in the clutches of a child molester? A Bully?

"What do you mean you can't? dammit! This psycho has my wife! I want to know everything about him--"

"She said she can't, Faris! Let her be!" Azaan's sharp voice shuts Faris up. Maybe he sensed that he was treading in forbidden territory. Like a secret too filthy to repeat. Or maybe he was tired too...

"I want to--" I began tremulously, staring at Azaan's weary face. I want to be able to say it out loud. I want to be able to say his name without remembering how he stole my innocence from me. I want it to not matter anymore. Azaan's face softens when he sees my struggle. The ghost of a tender smile passing over his lips.

"Sleep, Nightlife. I'll take watch." He murmurs, drawing the thick Afghan more securely over my shoulders. He pries my cellphone away from my numb hand, his warm fingers stroke once over the delicate ring he had given me not two days ago. And then in my exhausted haze I hear him quote Najwa Zebian; "These mountains that you're carrying, you were only supposed to climb, my love."

"They're damned heavy." I whispered, letting my eyes drift shut.

"I know, sweetheart. I'm carrying them with you."

...........

"...is unavailable, you'll have to do with me." Azaan's cold voice woke me up. He was standing near the window, speaking in low tones, probably for my rest's sake. From the tone, I could tell that this was an important call. The Call.

I was out of the couch, and by Azaan's side in a heartbeat, prying my cellphone from his startled hand.

"Where is Pareeshae?" I demanded without preamble.

"Ms. Hayat, I'm Musa Shah's attorney, we spoke earlier this week." the man's familiar voice was crisp. Business-like. My hands shook with helpless rage at his nonchalance.

"You're not a goddamned attorney! You--You're an accomplice to a kidnapping! I swear to God I will ruin your life when I--"

"There's no kidnapping, you bitch, if your friend went with us willfully." His politeness has slid away, revealing his ghastly nature. "Just like you will."

"I want her back, immediately! She is carrying a child, you monster! Don't you have the slightest bit of human decency?"

"Her return depends on your actions, Ms. Hayat. As long as you follow along a few easy steps, you can have your friend back in an hour."

"If Musa wants money, he can--"

"Money? You think he wants money from you? He could buy this whole country tomorrow if he wanted to." the man lets out a chuckle at my ignorance. "No. He doesn't want money. He wants a civilized meeting. With you. Alone. That's all he ever wanted from you when he called you. You forced his hand, and he had to resort to going to all this petty trouble..."

My eyebrow was ticking with the force of my rage. I was barely aware of Azaan's whispered reassurances.

"He kidnapped my 6 month pregnant best friend, because he wants a civilized meeting with me?" I asked icily, "Mr. Ghauri, you have a very funny idea of what civilized means."

As usual, my taunt fell on deaf, indifferent ears, and he began reciting a number.

"Call him on this number. Let him know that you accept his invitation to have tea with him tomorrow. Your immediate...problem will be solved momentarily. And if you fail to keep your word, then rest assured that Musa is a very resourceful man when he is angry..."

He hung up before I could argue, or ask about Pareeshae's health.

"Well?" Azaan's impatient question made me turn to face him. I was shocked to see Faris standing behind him, his face devoid of expression, his eyes dead with pain and exhaustion.

"He--" I began explaining Musa's demand, but I stopped myself. If Azaan knew about it, he'd never let me go to Musa alone, as he had demanded. So it was with a heavy heart that I decided to lie by omission.

"He'll return Shay tonight, as long as I call him up and talk to him." I was looking at my feet the whole time I said it. I don't think I can lie to Azaan while he can see the lie in my eyes.

"That's it?" Azaan asked tonelessly. "That's all he wanted?"

"That's it." I confirmed to the carpet patch below my naked feet. 

"Make the call." Faris rasped hoarsely, "Make the call, please."

.................

The call had been chillingly polite. As if we were distant relatives, planning a reunion tea-date. As if we were meeting to talk about inanities rather than the fact that he had kidnapped my best friend.

"I accept your invitation." I had murmured.

"I'll send you a car." He had replied pleasantly.

"I'll drive myself." I had gritted. I couldn't risk anyone from the media seeing me get inside a car belonging to my sworn enemy. 

"But I want you to use my car, Layla." His pleasant tone had suddenly taken a frosty quality. The hint of diabolic danger underneath it. "It would make me...very eager to please you...if you agree to use my car."

This man is a sociopath!

The thought of Pareeshae in his diabolical clutches, just about made me throw up.

"First let me talk to Pareesh--"

"Layla. Layla, sweetheart, I give you my word that your friend is being taken care of, as if she were my dearest guest. As for, when you can have her back?" He chuckled, "Well, you're the one holding all the card on that front. You know what you have to say, to get her back."

I never thought mere words would have the ability to make me cringe, cry and rage at the same time. 

"I'll take your offer for the ride." I spat out. 

I didn't say a word after Musa hung up, with a cheerful goodbye. 

"Do you want to tell me what he wanted?" I couldn't quite bring myself to answer Azaan's question.

"Does it matter?" I responded tonelessly, "We're getting Shay back. That's enough."

For a split second, it seemed like Azaan was about to argue. His jaw hardened, brows drawn together; he seemed to be struggling with himself. Struggling with the urge to demand answers I couldn't give him.

What did Musa Shah want?

The answer was too painful for me to contemplate. Because the man himself, is too painful for me to remember.

I was numb by the time Shay was returned to us an hour later (as promised); unharmed. 

I couldn't even bring myself to cry with happiness at her return, because of what lay ahead of me.

Faris broke down into relieved tears, as soon as Shay was in his arms. I don't think I have ever seen Faris be so vulnerable. He couldn't stop kissing his wife's face, neck and belly. It had been extremely moving; seeing Pareeshae consoling him, by holding him together. The moment was one of bittersweet, helpless intimacy, and Azaan gently steered me to the farthest couch in the room to give them both some privacy.

"...so crazy of you, love! why would you fucking do that? What about your blood sugar? Did you feel dizzy during that time?..." I could still hear snippets Faris's desperate questions, and Shay's reassurances.

Apparently, she had been "encouraged" to take a "vacation" to Shah's resort built on the edge of a Balochistan beach strip that his family owns--about 6 hours drive from Karachi.

"...and they had a whole spa thing going on, so I got lots of foot massages and fresh fruit juice. Really Faris, it wasn't like the kidnappings they show on TV. Maybe because I ranted and complained so much, and generally annoyed all of their thugs the whole time I was there..." Her story made me gape.

Only Shay would end up making her abductors miserable, while demanding foot massages.

"...I think they were terrified that I would pop the baby out early, because of stress, so they went out of their way to make sure that the kiddo stayed inside my body at all times..."

Faris looked dazedly at Shay's cheerful chirps.

"Love. Why the hell would you willingly walk to their car in the first place?"

That made Shay scowl.

"Because they threatened to kill someone if I didn't."

I closed my eyes, in mortification, not able to meet Faris's accusing glare leveled at me. Great. So I guess it really was my fault.

"You're aware that Layla has a 24/7 security team, don't you? Why the fuc-flub would you put yourself in danger over nothing?"

"They didn't threaten Layla, sweetie," Shay whispered gently, "they threatened to shoot you. They had a sniper on top of a neighboring building, and they assured me that their lasers were trained on your ass ..."

Faris jerked out of her arms angrily, "Then Goddammit, you should have let them shoot me!"

Shay's mouth fell open at that, and I bit my lips to keep from interfering in a problem that didn't involve me.

"You should have flubbing told them to shoot me!! That would have been less painful than the last two days I have spent worrying about you!"

"Faris I-"

"Are you out of your Goddamn mind, love? Did you not pause to think twice about our child?"

"Baby you don't--"

"NO! I GET TO SAY STUFF NOW!" Faris was yanking at his hair with frustration, "When someone says that 'We will shoot your husband, if you don't accompany us to creepy spa retreats'- YOU DON'T FLUBBING OBEY THEM, PAREESHAE. YOU TELL THEM: "GO AHEAD AND MAKE ME A WIDOW, BECAUSE MY HUSBAND WOULD RATHER DIE THAN SEE ME HARMED." GOD! I COULD STRANGLE YOU!"

Shay's eyes widened, and her lips quivered. That was the only warning we had, before she was wailing in earnest. Loud, tearful, hiccup-y wails.

"Dude!" Azaan tsked reprovingly at his friend, while I fought the urge to comfort Shay myself.

"Great. Now I'm the asshole who made his pregnant wife cry." Faris snorted dully, before gathering a hysterical Shay into his arm. To my relief, she just clutched blindly at his shirt, and cried harder, instead of gut-punching him.

"H-how can you ask me to make th-that kind of choice?" She sobbed, "How d-dare you think I could l-live without you? Be a m-mother without you?"

"Now you're just being melodramatic love." Faris stroked her hair, pausing to kiss her temple. "I'm sure you're just intimidated by the diaper duties you would have had to do by yourself."

"FLUB YOU, FARIS MANIAR!"

"Later. Definitely." Faris smirked weakly, earning a shove from Shay. 

"We missed you, Shay. You scared us" Azaan grinned at her, after she had composed herself somewhat, his tired face looking younger all of a sudden. "Didn't your parents warn you not to climb into strangers cars? Not to take candies from them? Not to stick your fingers in electric sockets? Not to eat before swimming? etc. etc.?"

Shay stuck her tongue out; "Your fiance is patronizing me, Layls. As if he wouldn't have done the exact same thing for you." 

I felt a jolt of surprise when I realized that I hadn't even had time to think of Azaan as my fiance. My flush of pleasure at the reminder was quickly squashed by guilt over what I was hiding from him. Little over 2 days had passed since that proposal, and I was already hiding things from him. 

"Glad to have you back, Peeshay." I finally moved forward to extricate her from Faris's arms, and  hugged my best friend for long moments. 

"What did he ask of you, Layla? For letting me go?" Shay whispered in my ear, "I don't think the guy needs money." 

Just my self-respect and pride. 

"It's not important." I kissed her pale cheek, "You and your blimp...you guys are important. I am so happy you weren't stressed out." 

Shay frowned when she realized that I was deflecting her probing questions, but she was so exhausted that she didn't pester me further, and instead let Faris (and a team of newly appointed guards) escort her home. 

Before they left, Faris came up to me and apologized for his beastly behavior. 

"You'd never willingly put Shay, or any of us in danger, and it was idiotic of me to imply otherwise." He admitted gruffly, "I hope that Allah never puts you in a similar position where you lose your sense of self. I--I was desperate, and not thinking clearly, and I said stuff to you and Azaan that I regret deeply now." 

It is hard to keep a grudge with a person as straightforward as Faris. He is uncomplicated in a way that makes me glad that he married Shay. His no-nonsense bluntness is perfect for Shay's erratic, dramatic view of life. 

"You don't have to apologize, Faris. I understand very well, just how desperate family can make you." I understand too well. 

Once they drove off, I refused to step inside alone with Azaan, in his place. He thought I was being shy. While true, my real reason for not wanting to be alone with him, was that I was afraid that if he pushed me even the slightest bit, I would tell him about Musa and his devil's bargain. 

"At least let me drive you home. Please. Khan can follow us in your car. Okay?" Azaan handed me my shawl and clutch. 

"I'm exhausted, Azaan. I don't think I'll be up for conversation anyways. Let's just call it a night." I smiled blandly at him, eager to get away from him, and his sweet, intense stares. Sometimes I swear he can look into my soul... 

His face fell at that, and I instantly wanted to take my words back. An awkward silence ensued, in which he silently texted the driver to bring my car around. I twisted my lily ring back and forth, a movement that didn't escape his notice, because his next words surprised me.

"We need to decide a wedding date soon. I have a business trip to South Korea coming up, and a conference in Germany after that. I was thinking 6 months from now, we'll all be mostly free, right?..." Azaan's almost brusque tone, was a far cry from the romantic declarations of our nostalgic engagement. 

"I-I don't know." I shrugged tensed, my finger made their way to my suddenly throbbing temple. 

I heard Azaan's sharp intake of breath, before he demanded, "What is that supposed to mean?" 

"For God's sake Azaan! It means that I don't know if I'll be free six months from now. I don't want to commit to a date I'm not sure about." My reply came out sharper than I intended, and I winced with regret. And so very uncharacteristically, he didn't say a word for the longest time...

...and then:

"Are you sure it's just the dates you have a problem committing to?" 

I blinked up at Azaan in shock. He was a vision of guarded hurt and anger. I could feel it, in the way he folded his muscled arms over his chest, as if he were restraining himself from breaking stuff--probably my neck. Even rumpled, tired, angry, and unromantic, this man made my skin come alive. It was perplexing to know, how he could ever doubt it. How he could ever disbelieve what he means to me.

I exhaled on a huff. 

"I think we should talk about it some other time, when we're both feeling a bit more human." and when you're not suggesting that I'm getting cold feet about marrying you. 

"I think we should talk about how you've been walking around like a ghost ever since you spoke to that asshole, and how you haven't trusted me enough to confide in me." His jaw is set determinedly, and I feel a responding twinge of pain in my temple. 

"Azaan. Sweetheart. I love you, but today just isn't a good day. And this moment right now is not a good moment for me. I understand that you want to carry my mountains for me, but you have to trust me when I say that I'd rather like to make that decision in my own good time." I massaged my forehead distractedly, watching some of the tension drain out of his cold posture. "Can it be enough right now, that I love you? And that right now I don't have the energy to fight, or talk about painful stuff. Am I enough for you in this moment?" 

"You're more than enough. You're the other half of my soul, Nightlife. You better take care of it." Azaan finally admittedly huskily, dragging a hand gently through my tangled hair in an attempt to smoothen it. "Go home and sleep. We'll talk some other time."

..............

During the car-ride to Musa's palatial home, I wanted to both die, and kill him myself. What exactly could he want from me, that didn't require the presence of a dozen criminal lawyers and a press conference? He was the one with the upper hand at the moment. My brother was under house arrest, and on the verge of a full indictment. Chandi's case was pending in the High Court, with no clear resolution expected anytime soon. Hayat's was still being dissed by designer circles....Why would he stoop to making deals at this point? 

His thuggish driver and guard kept leering at me from the back-view mirror of the sleek Mercedes he had sent for me. I tugged my nondescript white dupatta over my head, covering myself up, in an attempt to hide my self from their disgusting eyes. The guard chuckled derisively at my move, and I had to grit my teeth to stop from cursing him. 

The wrought iron gates to the Shah estate were grand. The metal plates in the middle were gold, inlaid with their politcal party's symbol; a horse head. The driveway was a long stretch of graveled road, surrounded by manicured lawns. The house itself was built in three wings, interconnected with glass and steel enclosed pathways. It was tasteful, extravagant and ridiculously grandiose. I mused wryly over the number of unpaid slave laborers who must have toiled hard to provide the means to support this kind of lifestyle. It is common news that the Shah family and other feudal landlords of Punjab, are positively medieval in their treatment of their tenants. 

"This was, Miss." a stern looking matronly housekeeper greeted me, as soon as I stepped out of the car. "Sahib Jee (Master) is waiting for you." 

I resisted the urge to tell her to poison Sahib Jee. Following her wordlessly inside the house instead. 

The inside of the house was as ridiculously lavish as I had expected. A lot of gold touches, crystal chandeliers and rich Persian carpets. The effect was a bit too overwhelming. 

"He is inside." the housekeeper gestured to a pair of huge, carved oak doors. 

I was pleased to note that I felt utterly dead inside. Not a single tremor shook my fingers as I reached for the Swarovski crystal door handle. The dread coiling inside my stomach all morning seemed to have vanished. And I felt...nothing. 

Absolutely nothing. 

The well oiled door swung open soundlessly, and I stepped into a huge library. The grand oak-paneled room smelling slightly of lime and cigarettes, reminded me of the old libraries of British castles that I had visited in England as a child. The place itself would have fascinated me, if it weren't for the loathsome man lounging on one of the reading sofas behind a coffee table. 

His cruelly handsome face twisted into an ugly smile when he spotted me. His gray eyes were alight with the same manic excitement that had terrified me as a child. As he unfolded his tall frame from the chair, I was pleased to note that signs of his indulgence of drink and drugs were showing. His mouth was darkened with the stains of smoke, his body too lean for a tall man. His useless right arm was encased in a discreet black arm-sling. 

"Layla, my dear. You're a terrible guest." He murmured, walking indolently towards me. "No thank you, for my invitation? Hmm? No, 'Musa how have you been, old friend?'?" 

"Thank you for blackmailing me. How have you been, you rapist? Ruin any more childhoods lately?" I replied coolly, raking him with a disgusted glance. 

"Tsk tsk. Mama Hayat should have been stricter with your manners. How positively un-ladylike. of you." 

I have no idea how I resisted punching his face, but somehow I managed to mouth back, "Are you going to keep on reciting poorly written villain lines, or actually tell me, why the fuck you want to deal all of a sudden."

He laughed at that, an attractive deep guffaw, that made me cringe. 

"All in good time, sweetheart. All in good time." He gestured towards a Tea-service arranged neatly on the antique side-table of the library. "Refreshments? No?" 

"I'm full, thank you." I replied sarcastically, "I'm sure the prisoners in your dungeon could do with some, though." 

"The prisoners in my--" He began, before bursting into another bout of mocking laughter. "Oh, you're so melodramatic, Laylee. Always loved that about you. So adorable." 

I felt a wave of nausea rising up my throat. And I had to wait in agonized silence, while he chatted about inane random things as he slowly drank his tea. Half-way through the meal, he rang for a servant who discreetly poured a foul smelling liquid into his teacup. 

"...so naturally I had to send my wife to Milan on a shopping trip. She was quite, quite distraught by your fashion walk stunt." Musa gulped the last of his tea, resting his feet on the coffee table in front of him. 

I just glared stonily at him. 

"Fiiineee. We can talk business. You're no fun." He winked at me. 

I pointedly looked at the wall-clock over his head. 

"You're aware of the term Quid Pro Quo, Layla? What it means in legal terms?" He asked silkily. 

"Yes. Thanks to scumbags like you, I am practically a lawyer myself." I replied dryly. 

"Humor me. Tell me what it means."  

"It means that I get something, if I give something." 

"Good girl." He praised, leaning forward to touch my face. I moved away before he could touch me, causing him to smile creepily. "Here's how it's gonna work, Layla. I'll give you two things or possibly even more than two things. And in return you'll give me two things. Is that okay?" 

Alarm bells were ringing in my head, but I just lifted my head in a silent invitation for him to continue speaking. 

"I'll retract my FIR against your brother, and I'll retract the case I made on behalf of employee, for that whore, Chandi." He paused to flick a speck of biscuit from his dark pants, "And as a completely generous bonus, I give you my word that I won't 'invite' any of your friends for vacations anymore, and nor will my wife be interfering with your mother's work." 

"What do you want in return?" I whispered, bitterly aware that I was nowhere ready to hear his answer.

"I want Hiraeth. The land and property, to be more specific." He rubbed a finger along his lips, "And something a little more personal..."  

My blood froze at his ridiculous demand. 

"Hiraeth is my life. Nothing could be more personal to me." I gritted out. "What the hell do you want from me?" 

"A kiss." he smiled diabolically. "I want you to kiss me." 

The urge to empty my stomach on the priceless Persian rug beneath my feet was too unbearable. My hands were like twin vices on the Dupatta, clutching it closer. I was reminded of all those times I had felt helpless and broken as a child, because of this man. How I never felt like I had a choice, had a voice for my own body. And he is putting me in that very same place all over again.

"Why?" I finally managed to articulate. "You already have lands, whores and a wife. What could you possibly get from me that you don't already own?" 

"Me?" He put his left hand on his chest innocently, "My dear girl, you're the one getting all the good stuff out of this bargain! Your brother is a criminal who deserves to go to jail. Look at my arm. It's been a decade, and I am practically an invalid because of him. And you know better than I, that your brother won't survive a day in real-life prison. That boy-band pansy ass idiot. I could have him beaten to death too, you know? some policemen are very eager to get favors from my family. And that whore you rescued? I could have her vanished from the State Sanctuary, like this--" he snapped his fingers lazily. "I am giving you a chance to take the easy way out. I am giving you the chance to save your brother, and that useless bitch. I am giving you a chance to live without any harm coming to your family, from my side. What is it worth to you?" 

What is it worth to me?

Is it worth my heart? My body? My soul?

I am gasping with the lack of oxygen in my lungs. Suddenly the choices he gives me, seem to make sense in a twisted way. I know what will happen now, yet I can no longer help fighting back. It's in my blood; fighting back. 

"No." I shook my head in futile denial. "No." 

He cocked his head to a side, contemplatively, "I wanted to ask you to give me much more than just a kiss...but I knew that would have been a stretch. And you're actually too old for my usual tastes...Why are you being so unreasonable? Hmm? If I can be fair, you can be fair about it too. Quid Pro Quo." 

I struggled against it, but angry, helpless tears still escaped my eyes. I felt absolutely wretched. His bargain wasn't fair by any stretch. He wanted me to choose between my family, and my own soul. Because I know for a fact that I wouldn't be able to live with myself, if I let him touch me again. I didn't even begin to imagine giving up Hiraeth. That was a pain on another dimension altogether. 

"Why-why are you doing this, you b-bastard?" I hated myself for that fragile tone in my voice. His eyes actually gleamed with glee at it. 

"Why?" he laughed, "Why am I doing this? Why Layla, sweetheart, I'm doing it, because I can. I usually don't provide justifications for my actions, but you asked so sweetly, so I can make an exception: I am doing it because I want to teach you your place. I want to make sure you remember what you are. In that utopic, feminazi world of yours, you seemed to have ventured to a place where you think you have power over someone like me...It will give me great pleasure to remind you that you DON'T have that kind of power." 

That Musa had a fragile male ego, should have been obvious to me. But to go to such vicious lengths to prove a point? It was barbaric. Almost like the stories of Pharaohs and Croesus that I had read about in the Holy Quran. He imagined himself to be more than human. To play god with people's lives like that...

"You could always choose to walk away, sweetheart. Although I'd prefer that you didn't. I have plans for that lovely building of yours. Will turn it into a discreet gambling den for foreign diplomats. Somehow, I just love the idea of wining, dining and whoring, in the very place where you gave those women false hopes of a non-existent future... And as for that lip-action? well, it's been ages since we were intimate. I'd like a reminder. Don't you?" He smirked at my sickened expression, "If you do choose to walk away, I promise you that I will make your life miserable in a vastly different manner. I have been almost gentlemanly until now..."

That icy numbness from this morning had returned to my limbs. And I felt the tension drain out of my body, as I realized what I now faced. 

If I don't agree to his demands, I can leave here and marry the man of my dreams, while my brother, Chandi, and possibly other people will lose their lives. 

If I do agree...

...I would lose Azaan. 

Because I could never live in my own skin, knowing that I betrayed his trust. I would have to tell him that I cheated on him, with my former abuser. He would hate me; a little less than I would hate myself. 

"You're the other half of my soul, Nightlife. You better take care of it."  He had said, ever so sweetly. 

The choice was clear now. 

Musa was staring expectantly at me. Bastard. Probably expected me to beg some more. To fall on my knees and plead for mercy. To warn him with empty threats...

I did none of that. 

My head held high, and my mind made up; I nodded once grimly...

And took my engagement ring off. 

"Quid Pro Quo." I murmured, kissing the warm metal once before slipping it inside my bag. 

...........

Author's Note:

Oh. My. God.

Guys. This chapter was like the worst kind of word-ly constipation for me. 

It. Just. Won't. Come. Out. Of. Me. 

Maybe it is my current, insane social calendar/extra-curricular shenanigans, or maybe it's just that this particular genre of chapters (slightly dark and thriller-ish) just doesn't come as easily to me, as light humor/romance does. 

Anyways. FINALLY DID IT! And this monster chapter is OUT! 

So uhhh....whataya think? eh?

It's not good enough, if you're not hating on me for that cliffhanger...

#StillTheBossHere 

So in Fan art of this week (or month. Lol). As usual, my favorite resident Graphic Art Queen/meme comment champion: AKA hershey-z made these lovely art pieces that I am in love with: 

(HEAVY BREATHING) 

(SO PRETTY IT HURTS)

(WEEPS) 

If you haven't checked out her awesome works, "Artraphics" and "Land Of Graphic Arts", then you're missing out, bruvs.... 

DON'T FORGET TO VOTE AND COMMENT COMMENT COMMENT! <3 I promise I read each one, even if I don't always get the time to reply (anyone wanna be my Wattpad PA?) 

Love, and Lemon Tarts!

-E.