Now:

Mom's revelation upset me. It drove me to prayers. The proper, Namaz and the informal, hushed pleas uttered in solitude. It's funny, how tragedy and trouble sends us quivering to our prayer mats. I read somewhere, that Hospital halls have seen more sincere prayers than Churches or Mosques. Touche tumblr. Touche.

Ruby, Maria and I were the only people she had told. Even my grandparents in the UK thought she was visiting them for funsies or something. Zaif was on a recording tour in Dubai with his music label, and Mom told me not to bother him.

"I asked my Sunday prayer group to pray for Sanam Madam." Ruby gives me a pat on the head, when she sees my lack of appetite at breakfast. "The Good Lord will bless her with health, and happiness, Laylee. You'll see."

Ruby Victor, our Caretaker/Nanny/Part-time Cook/Occasional Driver is a devout catholic. I've known her for the past 25 years (I'm 27). Pushing 50 now, she has grown graceful with age. Salt and pepper hair standing out against her mocha-brown skin. She has the kindest face ever, and the warmest hugs. Sometimes, when I think about it, it feels like she's been more my mother than Sanam Hayat.

She's the one who drove me to gym practice, she's the one who introduced me to Kishore Kumar and Iqbal Bano, which led to my enduring love affair with classical music. She's the one who stayed up till 4 at night during my and Zaif's chicken pox spell, putting ointment on our itches, and forcing vile home-made concoctions down our throats.

Ruby's life was a tragedy even beyond Shakespeare's scope. She had married for love in her 20's, against her family's wishes, earning unanimous ostracism for her boldness. However, this hurt was tolerable because of her husband, who was head over heels in love with her. Pretty soon they were blessed with a baby boy, and all was right in her small world.

One faulty spark plug is all it took.

Irate flames consumed the family's two-room apartment. Ruby wasn't home at that time. She returned to witness the remains of her family being carted outside. I admire her fortitude so much. To lose everything, and somehow still hold on, isn't easy. She didn't let this tragedy turn her bitter or ungrateful as one would expect.

She found a family with us, and taking care of us became her entire world. "I feel ridiculous taking my salary every month." She used to grumble, "No woman gets paid for looking after her own..."

I sigh, and tug over the morning paper towards me. Ruby wandered over to the TV set.

I had taken a sip of my scalding hot cappuccino, as I turned the page to the social section. I nearly threw up my breakfast at the headlines.

LOVE SPARKS AT ANNUAL CHARITY GALA!: Sanam Hayat's daughter and alleged lover exchanged more than Auctioned items at the social event....(Read More)

There was an HD photo below this horror show, it showed my profile glaring up at his face. He was staring deep into my eyes with his infuriatingly charming smile/smirk. It looked like a lovers spat alright. Ugh.

I jerked open the rest of the news.

'Layla Hayat was seen having a 'moment' with her alleged love interest. Witnesses swear that the two seemed very serious about each other.

"They were talking about having children together." One of them stated. Is an impending marriage imminent in the future? We may only speculate....'

I did what any sensible woman would do in my place.

I laughed. Then cried. Then laughed some more.

Ruby tsked when she read the piece of fertilizer over my shoulder. "Don't you pay any mind to these parasites, Laylee. This too shall pass..."

"Oh Ruby! This is terrible! They twisted my words into something I never intended!" I wail at the "children" line. I remember saying that I wouldn't have dinner with him, even if he handed me his firstborn....These people were worse than parasites. They were vermin. Insects who feed on parasites. I have no idea whether my Mom saw this, but she won't be happy with this because;

A) She hates Azaan Malik's guts.

B) She hates her name being attached to gossip.

She patted me consolingly, turning back to her Coke Studio episode. "There are worse things in life, baby."

"Like what?" I ask glumly.

"Like Atif's version of Tajdar-e-Haram." She gestured to one of my favorite artists performing the Qawwali. She winced as he sang the bridge. "Ruined it. Just. Ruined it."

"WHAT? No way! I think he did incredibly well. Took something traditional, and elevated it. That's coke studio for you..."

Our argument successfully distracted me from the trainwreck my life had become.
.............

"Do you want to-"

"No."

"You didn't even-"

"NO!" I typed away at a report I was drafting for our press release, ignoring my best friend.

"Is it about the Headlin-"

"Don't even say it Pareeshae." I warn her. My temper was through the roof ever since I stepped foot in the office engulfed by congratulations from my staff and women. They were ecstatic about my impending "engagement'". Someone even got me a fancy Mithai (sweet) box to commemorate the event, after reading the stupid gossip headlines. I was cursing Azaan to high heavens for setting foot in my life. He was like a viral influenza; you catch bad things just by being around him.

"Didyoulookatthenewprojectfile?" She utters in one breath, sticking her head in my line of vision.

I had in fact looked it over. It was brilliant; and if I weren't stewing over the whole gossip-fest, I would be ecstatic about moving forward with the idea. It would not only provide a steady, self-sufficient revenue stream for our organization, but it would also serve to help rural women beyond Hiraeth. However, at this moment, I just wanted to get rid of Shay. Sometimes a lady just wants to grouch around, scowl, and be alone. This was one of those times.

"We can go slowly at first, start off with the home-store, and move onto fashion..." Shay eagerly explains her ideas when she sees my lack of protest. She likes to move her arms and hands as she explains. I duck as she nearly pokes my eyes out.

"Okay."

"No, just hear me out, you don't have to do a thing to get the money, I already have..."

"I said Okay."

"...Not to mention an interest-free contract for us-WHAT?" She gapes.

"Okay? Okay." I shrugged, "I feel like John Green."

"You're 100 percent, okizzay with the plans? You won't back out, and leave me hanging? You promise your Eminem Kleenex. NO-wait. Swear on Chum Chum!" She is bouncing with excitement. I knew she'd bring in my prized possession to get me to commit. The piece of paper napkin signed by Real Slim Shady is perhaps the only materiel object I can seriously maim someone over, but Chum Chum-my pet cat- is something I'd seriously die for.

"Fine. I swear on Chum Chum's fat ass; I won't back down. You have the green light, make this work." I wince as she squeals and hugs me breathless.

"I want to meet our investors before we nail down a proposal." I turn back to my press release. Shay turns fidgety at that.

"You don't need to do that. Seriously, you just relax and let me handle finances. Just concentrate on our brand name, and positioning."

Huh.

"Shay, babe. I love your work ethic, and uh, perkiness, but I won't leave all the heavy lifting to you. You have a husband and family to look after. This project will monopolize your time." I gave her an indulgent smile. As the president, I had certain obligations and responsibilities to Hiraeth, and it'll be a cold day in hell when I become unfair about mine and Shay's workload. She has Faris as a full-time attention hog, and her in-laws are always engaged in one social event after another.

I never expect her to jump up and yell out in panic, "NO! You can't do that. You can't stop me from working, dammit. I know all about glass ceilings!" She actually has hands on her hips, I-can-do-bad-things-to-you frown on her face. "You're doing this because I'm a woman! FEMININE RIGHTS VIOLATION LIL!'

"Are you on that stupid banana diet again, Shay? because I think you're missing a few vital brain cells." I scowl right back at her. Today's not a day you mess with me. "Hmph. Glass ceiling my ass! I have ovaries too!"

She deflates a bit and gnaws worriedly on her lips, "I want to handle the finances. Please."

"I never said you wouldn't be handling it. I just said that we need to meet the investors together, as a team. My absence will send out a wrong message. Professional courtesy demands that I have a good rapport with them. How difficult is it to understand?"

She sighs, and slumps back on my bean bag, muttering under her breath, "You know what. I can't deal with this secrecy shit. If he wants to step on a volcano, who am I to stop him?..."

"What secrecy?" I ask curiously.

"You want to meet him right? So you ask him yourself." She taps on her smartphone, pushing it towards me. "I'm done protecting both of you."

I barely have time to glance at the screen before the green light for "In-call" starts blinking.

"Er, hello? This is Layla Hayat, President of Hiraeth. Who am I speaking with?"

I hear a deep masculine chuckle on the other end. An achingly familiar chuckle...

"You have no idea how long I've waited for this call..."

Author's Note:

Summer is over. University has commenced. And my Timetable is brutal. Like, Dagger-in-your-neck/Pimples-On-Your-chin kind of brutal.

I am also (against my will) about to run for student elections, so my days are spent, plotting underhanded political strategies. #EtTuBrut

Excuse the horrendous gap. Education messes with my pen powers. ^_^