"I CAN'T BELIEVE WE'RE doing this."
My husband turned to me, eyes twinkling as we came to a stop at a red light. "Well, you better believe it then, since we have no other option."
"Yeah, because the only option was to hot-wire a random car and steal it. You do realise that's theft, right? It's illegal. And here I was thinking that you were the most moral human I'd ever encountered."
"We gotta do the things we gotta do, I'm afraid, my dear wife. Would you rather we have stayed in those abandoned streets, with no one to ask for any directions or help in a new country?"
My dear wife? I blinked at him in confusion, but he gestured his head slightly towards the backseats, and I winced in embarrassment. Of course, it was only for show, since his siblings were sitting at the back and we still needed to keep up appearances.
"Obviously not," I continued. "You're just ... you're just so you. I wouldn't have expected you to steal even those sweets that we can fill up ourselves in shops. And here you are stealing a whole-ass car. It's just very weird."
He rolled his eyes at my comment. "On the contrary to what you might believe, no human is perfect. Including myself, as much as I might like to be."
"Of course not," I said, but under my breath muttered, "You only berate me when I eavesdrop on people. Totally not perfect and completely moralistic."
I saw him smile from the corner of my eyes as we were off again when the lights turned green, but my attention was soon again diverted at Nezrin's commentary.
"You guys are seriously so adorable."
"Adorable?" My husband and I asked at the same time.
"Yep! Like, see, you even say the same things at the same time. And you think so highly of each other even though you've only been married around a month. It's so beautiful to witness."
I laughed awkwardly, nodding along, wondering how everyone turned into fools at the sight of our fake pretences.
Zayaan turned towards me, the same question glinting in his eyes, and I shrugged as if to say, maybe we're just that good of actors.
We silently drove for the next few minutes, and I glanced back at my husband every few minutes, taking in his stern expression. When I looked back at the motorway which we'd now entered, a sign caught my eye.
"Oh, we're in Sofia."
"Where?" Zak asked.
"Sofia. It's the capital of Bulgaria. It says it right there, look." I pointed at the overhead sign and heard Zak cleared his throat.
"I'll just pretend I knew where that was."
I turned to him in amusement. "It's a ten-hour drive to Ankara if that helps."
"How do you know all this?" Zayaan glanced at me.
"Secondary school geography comes in handy sometimes. I didn't like it back then, but I guess it's turning out to be pretty useful now that we've survived a plane wreck in the middle of nowhere."
"Trying to make me regret choosing history, I see," Zak commented and I laughed.
"Trust me, I wanted to do history. But my mum made me choose geography, telling me that learning about dead people would be useless."
"It kind of is," my husband deadpanned. "But, at least it teaches us not to repeat mistakes from the past."
I nodded along, rolling down the car window, letting the wind whip at my face and hair. It felt freeing, allowing the fresh air to cleanse out all the car oxygen we'd been breathing in.
We came to a stop at what looked like a local café and Zayaan jogged inside quickly, telling us he'd be back after asking for some directions and whatnot and came back a few minutes later with a pleased smile.
"They spoke English, thank God," he sighed in relief. "So, we're on the outskirts of Sofia right now. If we drive for around two hours, we'll make it to Plovdiv, one city closer to Ankara. And we can stay at a hotel there overnight since it's already getting dark, and it will be around midnight when we get there," he explained the plan, and not finding anything to question, we all agreed.
I typed in the city Zayaan had mentioned into the old GPS, and we set off the in route that would take us one step closer to solving the problem that had started this entire chaos in the first place. That is, if we weren't too late.
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"YOU GUYS GO inside. I'll be there in a few minutes."
Zayaan hesitated. "Are you sure? It's extremely dark out here."
I gave my husband a wide smile. "Zayaan, I'll be out here for all of five minutes. I'm not going to wander out very far. I'll be fine; you guys go ahead and check us all in. I'll be there in a few."
He nodded, giving me a curious stare before the three siblings walked away from where he'd parked the car. The car park wasn't very full, and since finding a spot wasn't too difficult, we'd parked near the front, close to the hotel.
I breathed a sigh of relief once the three of their shadows disappeared from sight and I rushed to the payphone I'd spotted, hoping that the little change I'd found in the dash would be enough to make my call.
Thankfully it was, and I quickly dialled my brother's phone number, wincing when I noticed on the poster beside the phone that foreign calls were a bit more expensive than local ones.
However, as usual, my brother didn't pick up the phone and after trying two times, I gave up. I wasn't going to waste my already limited money on a brother who never picked up. I wasn't even sure why I thought calling him would be a good idea — it seemed that he always placed his phone God knows where and was prone to miss calls. I could be dying, and my dearest brother wouldn't pick up.
After sighing in frustration for the second time from hearing his voicemail, I hung up and pondered on what to do. Instead of calling one of my parents, I made the decision that I still regret to this day and called him.
Logan Anderson.
I still had a few unopened messages from him, spanning the entirety of the last week, and holding the contents that I didn't have the guts to open. I hesitantly keyed in his number, hating that I knew it off by heart and waited, my heart in my throat when the familiar ringing sound filled the earpiece.
I had no idea if he would pick up, considering the fact that I was calling from a random payphone with an area code that even I didn't know what was.
Just when I was about to chicken out of it last-second and hang up, I heard the voice that featured in so many of my dreams. The voice that I once prayed would say my name lovingly when I was younger. It alerted me back to the present, and hearing his voice again both felt like coming back home and like something I had no right to anymore.
"Hello?"
I cleared my throat. "Logan, hi. It's, uh, Faithe."
Why the hell did I hesitate when saying my own damn name? And why did it feel like I was cheating on my husband from just talking to Logan?
His voice perked up. "Faithe? Where are you calling from? What is this number?"
"I don't really have much time to explain right now, Logan. But I'm in Bulgaria. I just—"
Logan interrupted me. "Is it your husband? Is he hurting you or something? Has he taken you somewhere so he can ... so he can hurt you?"
"What?" I snapped, taken aback. "God, no. He's not hurting me, Logan. Not at all. Why the hell would you ask that?"
"Because you're in another country, on a school day, without telling anyone in your family? And you're in a rush, Faithe. Why the hell would anyone be in a panic if they're not in a situation like one where your new husband is hurting you?"
I suddenly felt so protective of Zayaan. I hated the fact that someone I loved was talking shit about my husband — someone who I now believed to be a good friend and someone I'd trust with my entire life — and I almost yelled at Logan.
I reined in my annoyance. "No, Logan. My husband isn't fucking hurting me. He isn't right now, and he never will. That's not the reason I called you."
He suddenly sounded so tired. "Then what is the reason you called me then, sunshine? If you won't tell me why you're in another whole-ass country, then what do you need from me? Tell me, and I'll do whatever the hell I can to help you."
My breath caught at the nickname. "I, uh, tried calling Aden and he didn't pick up. Would you just mind telling him where I am? I had a few messages from him but I can't exactly answer them right now."
"Why not?"
"My phone is dead."
"Dead?" He asked, and I could just picture his eyebrows shooting up to his hairline. "Your phone is always glued to your hand, sunshine. When have you ever let it die? You know you can tell me the truth, right? Nothing's going on?"
I sighed. "No, Logan. Nothing is going on. I promise. I'm safe and sound here. Zayaan is — he's the perfect husband."
Logan laughed harshly. "The perfect husband, huh? Is that why you're not with him and on the phone with me? Who are you trying to convince, sunshine?"
This was a mistake. A huge mistake.
"I'm not trying to convince anyone. Just tell Aden I called, alright? Goodbye," I said, ready to end the call right there.
"Wait."
"What?" I didn't even try to hide my impatience, but silently wondered if the reason why I wanted to hang up so suddenly was whether because I felt that calling him was a mistake, or whether I was afraid he was right with his statement.
There was a brief silence. "I've said this before, and I'll say this again: I miss you, Faithe. Do you know how long it's been since I saw you? Heard your voice before today?"
"I don't know, Logan. But it's just wrong. I'm married. I can't be talking to you."
"Why not?" He asked. "Is your husband restricting you from talking to people too?"
"What? No, no. Why would he do that?" I replied, baffled. "It's just wrong to be talking to you when I'm married. I shouldn't have called you, I'm sorry. It was a—"
"A mistake? I don't think so, sunshine. You love me; I love you. How the hell could this be classified as wrong or a mistake? The only mistake you made was marrying him."
I shook my head even though he couldn't see it. "Marrying Zayaan was not a mistake. It was what my family wanted. They love me; they want what's best for me. And if you really loved me, then you should have fought harder."
I was just digging myself a hole deeper and deeper at this point, but now that I'd started, I couldn't seem to stop.
He balked at my accusing tone. "How was I supposed to have fought harder when you cut off all contact from me? When you had your brother force me to stop supposedly bothering you? When you literally sent me a fucking wedding invite, telling me to not come? Tell me, sunshine. How was I supposed to have fought harder when you made it impossible for me to? I tried everything I could. Everything."
"Well, it wasn't enough," I said calmly, holding back tears on the inside. "It was just what was meant to be. You and I; we're not meant to be together. We better just accept that. Just forget about me, Logan. I won't call you again. Don't text me anymore."
"Not happening, Faithe. It'll be a cold day in hell before I stop believing in us. You've given me the green signal by calling me, sunshine. I can hear it in your voice; you still love me. I won't let down — you're mine. And you'll realise that soon enough when you leave that douchebag husband of yours."
His words planted a seed of hope in my chest, and there was an internal warring in my head when I debated whether I wanted him to fight for me or if I actually wanted all contact between the two of us to cease. Just then, my and Zayaan's plan came back into memory, and it shot another burning blaze of hope down my spine. But hope was deadly, and I shot it back down as quickly as it had risen.
"He's not a douchebag." Truth. "And, I'm not leaving him." Lie. Hopefully.
"We'll see about that, sunshine."
"Bye, Logan."
"Goodbye, sunshine." He paused, and his voice lightened. "I love you."
I hung up before the words could escape my mouth in return.
I love you too.
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I WENT INTO the hotel with hesitant, tense steps. The phone call had messed with my head, and I had no idea where I stood anymore. I didn't even have the guts to look the Haidars in the eye — it felt like I'd committed a huge sin just by talking to my past love.
"Here you are, Faithe," Nezrin sighed in relief as soon as she saw me. They were all waiting for me by the reception, room keys in hand.
"Here I am." I smiled shakily, hoping that she couldn't tell it was fake. "Sorry about that. I saw a payphone and just wanted to call my brother to let him know what had happened."
"Oh, that's okay," she assured, none the wiser to the fact that I looked extremely guilty right then.
But my husband, on the other hand, was a completely different story. He regarded me silently with both eyebrows furrowed, a contemplative look gracing his face, and I noticed the exact second when recognition seemed to hit. I saw his accusation, wide and clear, and I avoided it.
"So, you've checked us in?" I asked Nezrin.
Zayaan answered for her. "We have. Three rooms."
I looked at him and he just raised a questioning brow. Right.
"Of course," I mumbled, following them to the lift. That made sense.
We couldn't exactly stay in two separate rooms with Nezrin and Zak right here, and needing to keep appearances up, it seemed that Zayaan and I were once again staying in the same room. Nice.
We were in one of the rooms on the fourth floor, and once the lift doors opened, revealing a long corridor, I looked at them for guidance. I had no idea what the room numbers were.
"We're in 418," Zayaan told me. "Zak and Nezrin are each in rooms on the other end of the corridor."
My jaw tightened. Great. We were all alone, in a completely different section of the corridor.
I followed my husband meekly after we said our goodnights to Zak and Nezrin, not daring to open my mouth. He didn't say anything when he unlocked the door and pushed it open, flicking on the lights and revealing another beautiful hotel room.
It wasn't as elegant or opulent as the one we'd stayed in London for our wedding night, or even the one in Istanbul, but it was still large and stunning.
The bed stood there — or sat there — like a throne, with the bedding the same beautiful shade of chocolatey-brown as the rest of the room, with fluffy pillows that I knew that I'd fall asleep in a few seconds flat if I were to place my head on it.
There were a couple of sofas but they didn't look like the ones that a person could sleep on. Meaning, Zayaan and I would probably have to sleep on the same bed again like our wedding night. He'd obviously argue against it, but especially after the phone call, my conscience and guilt wouldn't allow it.
However, the highlight of the entire room was the windows. They were ginormous, spanning the greater length of the wall, and the dark sky was visible through mocha-coloured curtains that weren't closed. The entire skyline of Plovdiv was right in front of me, and it was beautiful.
There weren't many skyscrapers like back home, and instead filled with other shorter buildings and homes. It seemed that Plovdiv had more museums and ancient sights to see, rather than fancy, tall buildings.
It was refreshing to view, and the stars shined brightly, clearly visible without the pollution of London.
"How did your phone call go?" Zayaan questioned, tearing my mind away from the appearance of our room.
"It was okay."
"What did Aden say?"
I cleared my throat, trying to pick out exactly what I should say, before blurting out in the plainest, suspicious way possible, "I didn't talk with Aden."
"Oh?" He raised an eyebrow.
"I talked to Logan. They're roommates, and so I figured that if I told him, he would tell my brother since Aden didn't pick up."
"You figured that calling Logan would be better than calling your parents?"
"I considered it, but I already had only a little change that I'd found in the car dash — sorry about that; I didn't tell you — and didn't want to spend more of it, calling people only for them to not answer. My parents probably wouldn't have picked up, with work and all."
"I see."
I waited for him to expand on his words, but when he didn't, I spoke again. "Are you mad?"
He'd walked over to the large windows, and turned around to look at me. "Mad? Why would I be mad?"
I shrugged. "I don't know. You just said earlier that you wanted a fresh start, no Logan and everything. So I thought you might be annoyed that I willingly called him to talk."
"Fatimah, I'm not here to control your life. You can talk to whoever you like. Sure, I said that we could have a fresh start without the past interfering, but it's obvious you love him. You're more than welcome to be with him after our two years are over. I'm not stopping you from talking to him, as long as you don't outright tell him about our plan. I trust you."
"Really?" I asked sceptically.
"Yes, really." He gave me a nod, and I felt something that felt eerily close to being like disappointment wash over me.
God, I was a terrible human being. There I was, not even ten minutes ago almost having told the love of her life — who wasn't her husband — that she loved him too, and now was lusting after another man. Who was her husband. Lusting after him, and disappointed when he didn't seem to return the feeling or show that he was even the slightest bit interest in me. I was certifiably a horrible human.
"Oh, okay. Thank you, then."
His face stayed blank apart from the slight twist of his lips, and he gestured towards the bathroom. "Do you need to go, or do you mind if I go first?"
"You can go, it's okay." I needed a long shower to wash all the grime and dirt away, and I couldn't do that while feeling guilty that I was taking too much time showering.
"I'll be out soon." Zayaan seemed to read my mind, before slipping into the bathroom.
I plopped onto the bed, just short of letting out a groan of how good it felt to finally be able to lay down and relax after the long day we'd just had. And I wasn't sure why, but I had a feeling that tomorrow was going to be even longer.