Protection

Mission

ZAHRA'S POV

I took a last look at the beautiful view of my new home. I could see the blue glass building reflecting the orange sun. AWAN INDUSTRIES logo shined in the sunrise making their presence with all the other tall buildings surrounding it look new in comparison to the other buildings. Whoever the architect was, is a pure genius it looked beautiful.

I could barely hear the police sirens in this area, but it was replaced with the sound of beeping yellow taxis, or cabs as they called it in this country.

I looked at the time and I was nearly late again; I ran out of the door and jumped on the new thrifted bicycle I bought a few days ago. In 15 minutes, I arrived, feeling my legs sore not being used to using my legs this much mixed with my panting mouth yearning for oxygen. The kind doorman opened the door for me, and I couldn't help but feel thankful instead of awkward for once.

I looked at myself in the elevator mirrors trying to brush away all the baby hairs that jumped up of my ponytail with the abusive wind outside. I could feel my armpits slightly sweating but I wore deodorant so the smell of perfume replaced the disgusting smell of sweat, can't wait to take a shower when I come home.

If I knew Zayan would send me this much money because of the clothes I wouldn't mind wearing them again, and again. The elevator door opened, and I walked into my office about to trip on air with my baggy pants but quickly managed to stand straight up, I hope no one saw that I told myself looking around in the empty corridor.

I sat down on my leather seat feeling completely exhausted, when I saw all the white people bicycling to their jobs in London it looked so easy. I took the water bottle from my bag gulping it down and in seconds it was empty.

I saw all the things Mr. Awan sent me in my email and I started the work right away to go home and start my weekend as fast as I can.

My anxiety wasn't that bad either ever since Mr. Awan took a few days off after he came to work high that day. Well, I hope it stays that way. I typed away all kinds of things on my computer getting lost in the contract I had to make for him with an old template I found on the computer. I tried to copy the fancy unfamiliar English from the template into my own word document, I hope he is impressed.

ZAYAN'S POV

"I don't even want to see his disgusting face"

"You know my dad said you looked like him when he was younger," Hassan said making me slightly angry. I looked at him but his eyes were focused on the road in front of him, his hands on the steering wheel.

"Are you telling me I need plastic surgery?"

"Yeah, we will see how many girls will jump on you when you look like James Charles," he said laughing at his joke, freak.

"Do you have a death wish?" I asked rolling my eyes and wanting to squeeze his little throat. I could feel the familiar swing and in seconds the black gate with golden birds on top opened, revealing the fountain I threw Hassan and Sophie in as children all the time.

I jumped out of Hassan's BMW and closed the door maybe a bit too harshly. I took slow steps towards the entrance letting all the childhood memories run down my mind both the good and bad ones.

I haven't been here for months and some of the furniture was changed making the place seem foreign. I looked up at the ceiling and the same chandelier was still there, the big stairs with red carpet on each stair also making it seem kind of familiar again.

The old blonde woman came running down the stairs her skin wrinkly, her teeth black from all the smoking, oh God I got to stop smoking soon. My so-called stepmom screamed my name in the whitest way possible