𝖂e don't hug.

Which was the most normal thing about this interaction by far. I doubt we'd ever willingly hugged each other at any point of our lives. I couldn't imagine he'd be willing to do it now, under the circumstances.

It had been months since I'd last seen him.

His presence was domineering, shoulders wide and posture tall, in contrast to my lithe sharpness. He looked even bigger, harder and less penetrable. My twin stood a foot taller and a foot broader than anyone else in the area. His dark mane untamed and unruly as ever, but he sported a full fledged beard on a face that used to be strictly clean-shaven. Dressed in his usual dark garb, Taimoor looked a part of the night.

"Get out."

"No."

"You're not welcome here," his lips pressed together tightly, revealing the scar that carved a path across his lower lip. He looked haggard, completely exhausted and beyond irritated by my arrival.

"Don't remember asking you," I snapped icily. He was no better than a scorpion, striking out when cornered. His attention shifted toward Akbar's line of sight instead.

"You-" Taimoor started and I stepped between the two, my body a shield in front of Asfand.

"Don't growl at him, look at me."

"I'm done here."

"You'll be done when I say you're done," his apathetic expression shifted into something more animated, but I was too intent on my mission to catalog the change. I was supposed to be playing it cool, keeping it all in, but felt like a flame, burning tall and bright. I couldn't put it out. "Taimoor, don't walk away from me!"

"Leave!"

"Make me!" a clap of thunder punctuated his shout, and before I knew it, I was standing outside and the main door was being slammed in my face. "Fucking hell, why does he have to make everything so difficult?"

"He's had a... challenging day ma'am," Akbar said apologetically.

Heavy wings of sorrow unfurled in my throat. I smothered the feeling, snapping its fluttering limbs. For most of his life, Taimoor had pretended to be a playboy, obsessed with all that glittered. Frivolous, egotistical. Unconcerned with anything aside from pretty lovers, parties, and baubles. But I, the queen of masks, knew these were false identities my brother wore.

Taimoor was much more complicated than he let on. His secrets were so vast, that even I, as his twin, hadn't unearthed them all yet.

"I'm glad you're here with him, it's the one solace we've all had."

"Would you like to eat before you settle in ma'am?"

"No, just have the rooms cleaned... we'll be staying for a couple of days," even under the darkness there was something otherworldly about the building, something enchanting. Much like the vexing man who occupied it. "Make sure Asfand is comfortable."

"Don't worry about me."

"I know you've been here before...but believe me, if I have any hope of getting through to my brother, we'll need to hunker down for a few days," I caught his eye, looking at me in a way that felt like a question, and a fluttering sort of panic sparked in my chest, my heart pounding a bit harder.

"Gotcha captain, I'm on your side here."

"Now that we got that decided, Akbar?"

"Yes, right this way sir. Ma'am, shall I notify your grandfather that you've arrived?" he spoke as he always did: clipped, terse, honest but for the first time, I detected an underlying sense of distrust.

I gave him a baleful look.

"No, there's no need to bother him."

"Akbar... Salaam Ma'am."

"Mrs. Khan, nice to see you're still here. I'm happy my brother didn't scare you away-"

"Sorry for the interruption Ma'am but I have to talk to Akbar."

"Why? Did Taimoor throw a fit and break something or has he decided to lock himself up in his room?" I shot a glare up, cursing every Mughal ancestor I could think of under my breath.

I paused long enough to take in her expression, but the stoic woman gave nothing away.

"It's-"

"What is it Mrs. Khan?" unease gripped me like a vise and made cold sweat bloom across my skin. The constriction in my chest expanded, and I knew there was no way to alleviate the pressure that was plaguing me.

"He's gone."

"Gone? Gone where?" Asfand clicked his tongue and shook his head in disbelief.

"To the warehouse."

༻❂༺

My eyes tracked the slew of indistinguishable cars and people as Akbar struggled to find a parking spot outside the shaggy, worn down structure. Rain began to fall in relentless silver-gray lines that muddled the stars when I exited the vehicle, dressed in Taimoor's baggy clothes, a loan from Mrs. Khan. I placed a hesitant foot on the concrete and Asfand adjusted the cap on my head as we left the Range Rover behind and headed inside.

Stifling warm air engulfed us at the entrance. Fists flew toward the stage as a fight raged on in the center of the room. Blood splattered across the makeshift ring's concrete floor, and bodies collided with the filthy ropes marking its perimeter. The bell rang, signifying the end of the fight, and a large burly man charged off the stage. His wide smile peeked through the blood coating his face like a gory mask.

It was official. Taimoor had lost his mind.

Shocked and disgusted, I bumped into Asfand who placed a comforting hand on my waist.

"Did you know about this?"

His lips pressed into a harsh line. "No."

The noise transformed into a churning sea of screaming, chanting, roaring faces. Their fists pumping the air as they demanded a show. The audience was alive. Before we found a place to stand, I checked the roster. My finger scrolled down the chicken scratched list, and I released a sigh of frustration because of course he'd used an alias. My bother was nothing if not dramatic. "Beast" was lined and circled twice with a red pen, a way to mark the importance of the fight.

I could feel the strength of it in my bones as my stupidly violent brother approached the ring. As he readied himself to begin the match, the roar of the crowd voiced their disdain for the fighters. Makeshift stage lights and neon signs flickered above us and illuminated their red faces.

When he finished taping his wrists, he cut through the crowd and stepped into the ring to a wave of murmurs rippling through the room. Disgruntled voices probably belonging to the idiots who just realized who they were up against.

Taimoor took the first swing, and blood slipped from a split in his opponent's lip. He opened his mouth, turned his head, and spit out a tooth, which caused a roar of laughter and catcalls from the crowd. With a dazed look in his glassy eyes, he fell back into the corner, trying to recover. My arm reached out to clasp Asfand's as my heart fell down to my stomach.

In a normal fight, this was where a referee would step in and call for a medical team to give them the go ahead to continue, but this wasn't a normal fight. There was no medical team.

And Taimoor was on a killing spree.

He charged toward his opponent again, and the guy caught his jaw with a surprise right hook. My hands shot up to my mouth, legs ready to run onto the floor, just as Taimoor hit the guy back. His blood splattered on his cheeks and forehead like war paint. Taimoor's scarred body crashed into his as the two took turns searching for soft spots. They were evenly matched in body size, but the other guy didn't have the experience Taimoor had. Or the anger.

I didn't have enough time to collect myself before he threw a punch to Taimoor's face that sent him stumbling backward a step. Blood flew from his nose but it didn't hinder him; it fuelled him.

Thin scarlet ribbons dripped from the crescent marks on my palms, leaving little red stains all over my hands. The lights warmed my sweat-slicked body, screams echoing in my ears. The sharp scents of blood and sweat filled my nose as I sucked in a breath. A sense of calm coasted through me and I didn't protest when Asfand's hand brushed the small of my back. It was an innocent gesture, barely a display of affection, but electricity surged from our connection.

His touch, even in such an innocent way, was comforting.

The crowd roared in approval, growing louder with each blow. My twin stood up and started his assault. Blow after blow after blow. And when his opponent finally fell to his knees and clutched what must be a broken jaw, I let out a sadistic laugh. An audible crunch rang out over the cries from the bloodthirsty crowd. Blood sprayed from his mouth and stained the concrete, and he didn't rise to his feet again. It was over.

Taimoor had won.

The crowd quieted down and began filing out of the building. Call it instinct or a connection between twins, Taimoor's head snapped up and found me, his eyes narrowing into dangerous slits.

The purple hue to his swollen bottom lip was what broke the silence.

"Your fight didn't go as well this time, huh?" I asked as he started to walk forward.

"This?" he rubbed his lower lip. "The other guy looks much worse."

"What the fuck is wrong with you?" my muscles tensed as I fought the overwhelming urge to snap this boy in half and leave him in a shallow, unmarked grave.

Taimoor leaned forward so we were eye to eye, separated only by the narrow aisle between benches.

"How did you get here?"

"I tried to tell her that it wasn't necessary-" Akbar groaned, pinching the bridge of his nose.

"You're fired."

"You can't fire him," the corners of my vision blurred. He was hitting every last nerve I had.

"You can't stop me," he threw his shirt over his shoulder and headed towards the makeshift locker room. The stench of men and unwashed towels filled the space, and Taimoor flung his shirt onto a metal bench against the wall. All four of us strolled past a line of warped lockers and a dirty, cracked mirror, watching him unwrap his fists.

"I'm sorry if I'm not taking the words of a mad man seriously," he flinched. It was so quick, almost imperceptible, that I wondered if I'd imagined it.

When he spoke again, he sounded almost bored.

"Why are you here again?"

"I could be asking you the same thing are you mad? Insane? Crazy? Deluded? Suicidal?"

"Your point?"

I flushed red.

"My point is that I want you to come home with us so I can get a gun and shoot you."

"Maybe we should let him explain? Taimoor... how long has this been going on?" Asfand's words made my brother bristle.

"Not for long."

"He'd stopped for a bit. Used to do this right after his physiotherapy-" Taimoor was more than a little taken aback and slightly abashed by Akbar's interjection.

"This was doctor recommended?"

"No, this was needed. And you'd know that if anyone had bothered to go to the doctor with me or come to my appointments."

We stared each other down.

"Has it helped?"

"Yes-"

"No. He'll be sore for a few days-" Akbar interrupted, leaning over and taking the towel from his hands, tossing it over to a nearby bin.

"But feeling better than whatever exercise the physiotherapist would have done," Taimoor's expression was difficult to read, but for the life of me I thought I saw a brief moment of sadness chase across his features.

"You could have gotten seriously injured."

"I'm fine."

"Great upper cuts man, didn't know you had it in you," Asfand praised, voice pitched low so anyone outside the room wouldn't hear.

"Don't encourage him. This is dangerous. These men don't play fair," I cried, outraged.

"Nor do I."

"You're not built for this-"

"Really? Because as far as I see, this is the only place that's accepted me," in the blink of an eye, Taimoor's face became a mask of rage so tumultuous and powerful that it almost matched my own.

"An underground fighting ring?"

"Are you offended by the place or the fact that I fight?"

"The fact that you're putting your life in jeopardy!"

"I'm done with this conversation. You shouldn't have showed up here," his voice was firm but not sharp, telling me this 'matter' was not going to be discussed any further. "We should really talk about you barging in where you're not wanted."

I blinked at him, wrecked by the words he just lashed at me. My entire body tensed until I was unmovable stone. This accusation was a slap in the face. It stung like hell. My face grew hot, my blood rose to my cheeks. I was so outraged that I wanted to strike back, but I didn't have the words to hurt him as effectively as he'd hurt me.

"You know what? You're right. I'll leave. All of you can find your own way back."

༻❂༺

Early morning light streamed in the huge window, my head turning to fully look out. The sun was still not really up yet, but the sky was clear. In the light of a fresh day, everything felt less like a blurred fever dream and more like a picture-perfect stained-glass window.

Sitting up, I rubbed my face and flicked on the bedside table lamp. Everything was so different to yesterday. I took in the room, a little at a time, taking it easy to fully rouse from sleep. So, despite the fact that I felt like I was slowly fed through an industrial-sized meat processor after the night with Taimoor, I found myself perching on the side of my bed at eight in the morning anyway, yanking on a pair of beige pants and loose boots, courtesy of Mrs. Khan.

It was time to get some much needed relief.

When my instructor had explained this to me, he tried to say something along the lines of "you have to block everything else out" or "a clear mind is key." He wasn't wrong. That was the easiest way... and that was precisely why he was fired and Daada Jaan had stepped in. Things were taught differently at Mughal Manor.

We focused the chaos in our minds on our problem, envisioning the prime frustrations long before the target was released. He taught me to let the noise take over, to drown in it to the point of desperation, where the only way to find the air I needed to survive was to take out the person threatening it.

Mine took the shape of the person I saw in the mirror every morning.

I mounted my shotgun, drawing the stock close to my cheek and blew out a long breath.

"Pull."

The first target was released. My weight remained focused on my front foot, eyes tracking the target, the muzzle of the gun following. I gently squeezed the trigger so as not to disrupt my shot, and the clay pigeon shattered in the air, as did the second and each one after that.

My body shook with relief and I lowered the gun to my side, staring up at the final smoke spot in the sky.

"Perfect, as always," was spoken from about ten feet behind me.

My lips pressed into a tight line and I blew out a harsh breath, annoyed even after this therapeutic exercise. "You really shouldn't approach me when I have a gun in my hands. I might pull the trigger by accident."

"And allow a single mistake on your perfect record? Not likely," he drawled over the word when I whipped around to face him, small creases forming along his temples.

"Got tired of growling at family members and slamming doors?"

"Don't think I'll ever get tired of that."

"Nice to see your humour's intact."

"As opposed to half of my face?"

"That's enough Taimoor. Please," I glanced up at the sky and pinched the bridge of my nose.

"Enough for who? You or me? Because as far I as I remember I did say enough. I left so I could live my life in peace."

"Living, this is what you call living?" my tone was as threatening as an approaching hurricane. "Fighting people to feel alive? Cutting us off? Telling me that I was barging in? You're not living Taimoor, you're hiding."

"And for good fucking reason! You think I want to live with all of you pitying me? With our parents avoiding my presence? With my sister in law dissolving into hysterics every time she caught a glimpse of my face?" I knew hurt and I recognised anger. I'd lived with it coiled around my bones for as long as I could remember. It had been a stalwart companion, dogging my every move ever since grandmother had died. But I'd never been witness to the kind of condensed, magnified hatred that lived in Taimoor's eyes now. The sight of it made me tremble.

"Screw her. If Seher has a problem with you, she and her husband are welcome to find another place to live. We've got a fair amount of residences, she can just pick one and hopefully leave us all to our devices."

I shouldered past him, throwing the gun on the ground.

"What do you care?" he muttered in anxious urgency. "I'm the one who-"

I spun and stepped towards him, watching him stagger back in surprise. "Don't. Don't you dare talk to me about caring and especially not after last night."

We stared at one other for a moment, and I watched him note the paleness of my skin, my cheeks, how my fingers were trembling.

He could see it.

That I was doing it again, making food the enemy. Waging war on my body to combat my brain. His attention fell to my arms, both frail looking, my body as willowy as ever- the perfect ballerina. If a ballerina was a malnourished, oversensitive bitch.

A haunted look fell over him.

"Have you been training?" I glared at him flatly. If he wanted to get down to brass tacks, then so be it.

"No."

"Dancing?"

I looked away. That was a no.

"Zeenia."

I spun on my heels and headed back down the stone path. "Go and stay gone unless you've decided to become human. I'll be leaving soon. Wouldn't want to barge in and disturb your sadistic rituals."

The second my feet hit the inside of the elevator doors, I start stripping. Tearing my fingerless gloves from my hands, I tossed them aside, yanking the earplugs from my ears and letting them fall where they may.

I was so incensed, I barely noticed the white box on the bed.

A swan brooch encrusted with diamonds. As my fingers brushed over the smooth, luxuriant surface, a pang of regret travelled down my body. Inside my pocket, my phone vibrated with a text message, and I dug it out, grateful for the interruption.

Afternoon. Library. At 2.

༻❂༺

The walk down the hall and turn in to the room that shelved some of my family's most prized possessions was motivated by the need to get things done.

Asfand stood by the window, looking out at the grounds and the sprawling hedge maze that was a source of pride for our family. My great grandmother had started it, and our grandfather had doubled its size, making the tall hedge maze more complex and challenging. Taimoor sat behind the desk, a leather portfolio pinned beneath his hand resting on the desktop, looking sharp but wary. The walls behind him were lined with books, many of them rare printings. Taimoor's chess set usually sat on the desk so he could play Akbar, but this afternoon, the chess board had been moved to the side table under the window.

Asfand had his back to me, but he turned when he heard me enter. "Zeenia, come on in."

He gazed at me with interest. His navy shirt really brought out the color of his eyes, multi-faceted and earthy. They sucked me, demanding more, and I worried if I stared at them long enough, he'd pull every last secret leaving me with no choice but to look away.

I peered groggily across the room, feeling a tug of something amiss. The both of them together, in this room, didn't seem like a simple plan to resolve my issues with my brother. I had been trying and failing to get Taimoor to talk to me for months and now he was ready and willing?

"Sit."

"How sweet of you to order," I let out the breath I'd been holding. The walls seemed to pulse before my eyes. "I'll prefer to stand."

"Look, I know you're mad at me-"

"Oh no, I'm bursting with joy at the moment."

"I should have replied to your messages-"

"No shit."

"But I've been busy-" Taimoor remained calm in the face of my fury.

"Yes, too busy beating people up to type a simple- yeah I'm okay-?"

"Okay that's fair. You get to say that-"

"No Taimoor, I don't just get to say that," he was mid sentence, but still, I ploughed on. "You decided that you wanted to trudge up the country and isolate yourself, cut off from everyone and everything and that it wouldn't matter to any one of us? That you would just leave us, leave me alone, and I wouldn't care? That you could just go out there and start fighting in underground boxing rings and that would be okay?"

"I didn't mean to-"

"What were you thinking! How could you have forgotten so quickly! You are a Mughal Taimoor! You're modern royalty. It's so unlike you to just forget that-"

"I haven't forgotten anything Zeenia. It looks like you have forgotten me! The failure of the bunch. The runt. The one who should be hidden-"

"None of us wanted you to hide."

"Oh yeah? So why hasn't anyone bothered to visit? Why haven't any of you bothered to show up for my surgeries?" I've been completely robbed of the ability to speak. It's a shame Taimoor hasn't. He leaned toward me, his lips pressed into a flat line, and for the first time I saw real, true pain in his eyes. My eyes. The eyes that had always reflected love back to me.

"We-"

"Yeah I'd love to hear the reasons. I've been here, trying to fucking get my life together while the rest of you have been frolicking around-" he retorted just as bitterly.

"We weren't frolicking around! And I don't know, it's a little hard knowing about your appointments, because you don't tell us! When was the last time you bothered to reply to any of us?" for a second his stony expression finally cracked. Hurt, betrayal, pain- all flashing through in quick succession.

"I absolutely mean to interrupt you," Asfand said to Taimoor just as I breathed through my falling heart. "But can we keep this civilised?"

"Why did you bring her here?"

"Excuse me?" I'd asked the question evenly, but I knew he was familiar with every minuscule shift in my mood and demeanor.

Asfand's tone was guarded. "Taimoor, just listen to her."

"I wanted to see you," a scowl darkened Taimoor's face, but it seemed self-directed.

"Don't believe you, try again."

Asfand had remained in the background, but at some point he'd turned to face us, and he lifted a hand to rub a crease from his forehead. "Taimoor-"

"Why are you here Zeenia? I'm not coming back. You know that."

Why was I here?

In my moment of fit and fury I'd thought of a refuge. Of a safe place and that thought process had led me to my twin. My partner in crime. The one person who'd understand my rage. I did my best to prepare my defences. If Taimoor was going to try to be difficult, he was about to have a war on his hands.

"I needed a safe space."

Pin drop fucking silence.

Taimoor's reaction was subtle, but I caught it. He hadn't expected this and was taken back, but then skepticism took over.

"And you came here?"

"I had no where else to go to," fire bubbled in my stomach like a cauldron.

"Why didn't you tell me?" he asked quietly. He wore regret, but it was a terrible fit on his broad shoulders. Something was...off. Usually, he reveled in dismissing any sort of emotions or attachments, but today, he waited. It was almost as if he wanted to know.

"You didn't ask."

"I-"

"Asfand helped," the awkward tension between us grew until it became unbearable, and I broke, turning away.

"I can see that. Does anyone know?"

"They probably don't care," and they wouldn't. Because they wouldn't apologize or confront their emotions and by the time they figured out I was gone, I would have resigned myself to doing whatever they'd asked of me.

Taimoor made a sound that was almost an apology. Well, as close to an apology as he could give. "Do they know? I don't want more people showing up on my doorstep."

The broken bits inside of me warred at his words. "Don't worry. Your hospitality will take care of any unwanted guests."

"Why are you here Zeenia? It's not just to run away. I know you, just like you know me. You want something. What is it?" his gaze settled on me matter-of-factly. His words weren't a boast. They were the beginning of the threat delivered with the profoundly confident manner of someone who knew exactly how high his pedestal was because he had hauled himself there.

"I want to have what's rightfully ours. I want-" power, security, safety, position- revenge. "- our company to be ours, not just Altamash's. And I know you want that. I know it even though you're acting like you don't care but you do."

He'd gone still again; this time a storm quietly brewing behind his gaze as it turned inward. "You know why I can't be involved."

"Not directly," my face made the same movements when he made when he wanted an explanation. Taimoor might be frustrated now, but he knew that if I'd made this decision, the person deserved it. It was the same moral code we'd had since we'd started.

"You want me to what? Start a war?"

I drew myself up, unwilling to become anyone's pincushion. Being hurt and regretful was one thing, being an ass and lashing out was another. The response had to be proportional and cold. Rational. Clinical.

"Not at all. I want you to help me lay down the law."

"And how will we do that? You want us to go to war over what... rumours? Him not giving you enough to do?"

"I'm not asking us to go to war Taimoor. At least not yet. I'm just asking you to make our presence known."

"I quite like not being known."

"Okay. Well, have fun once you're kicked out and have to survive and live on whatever measly inheritance and winnings that end up your way," my small but firm voice lashed out.

He took a deep breath as if he'd fill his lungs with it and hold it there for all the time he was conversing with me.

"That's what's bothering you? Asfand's right here Zeenia, I'm sure he can set you up with an impressive savings and investment portfolio."

"Screw. You," the gall of this guy. The fucking stones he had to say something like that to me.

"Okay that's enough. We're getting off track here," our mediator stood in the middle, his hands on the table, body angled towards me, eyes laser focused on Taimoor.

"What are you suggesting? We can't tamper with our shares. Daada Jaan has been clear about that. God knows what he's written in the will but for now, we can't do anything."

"You do know what they're trying to do right? Altamash is taking the credit for your success and achievements. He's taking over the company with our father's help."

"What's the problem here? The fact that he's taking over or he's cutting you out?" he answered sweeping a hand through that messy hair of his, making me see red.

"The hell?"

Taimoor let out a pained sigh.

"I know about the Gala. People around us our talking about how the Mughal Princess has been sidelined to a mere pretty face. Is that what's bothering you? Or are you genuinely concerned about the company?" he lifted his chest, pushed his shoulders back, and power flared in his eyes.

It was as close to a victory dance as my brother got.

"I don't fucking believe you. You think I'd be upset over some petty gossip? The company is our legacy Taimoor, not just Altamash's. You and I both poured our blood, sweat and tears into it. He can't just waltz over and be named CEO."

"He's the eldest."

"Doesn't make him the most competent."

"But that's not why you're here. Why are you here exactly?"

"I don't know how... and I don't know in what capacity, but I do know this, we don't deserve to exist in the shadows."

"We should tell her."

"No."

"Tell me what?" anxiety spiraled around me like rope. What he was implying was so shocking, it turned my spine into steel.

"Nothing,"

"We've been planning something," Asfand's confession dropped like an anchor, stopping us all in place. My half laugh was more surprise than humor.

"Affandi!" he pressed his lips together and leaned back, hopefully just to give himself time to consider what Asfand had said, and not in an effort to put this conversation to an end. "It's not your secret to tell!"

"I'm just as involved as you Mughal," the muscles along Asfand's jawline flexed as he locked his teeth, unaffected and barely intimidated by Taimoor's unrelenting glare. My movements slowed to a halt, including my heart.

"Tell. Me. What?"

"We're planning a mini coup."

No excuses for the delay! Buuuuuut... it's here? Hahaha I'm sure I'll complete the story in the coming months. Thoughts? Comments? Let me know 👀

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