Lengthy chapter again. Post your reactions as you read!🤗
Salma sat balled up at the end of the couch, next to her father. She was properly wrapped like a burrito in one of her mother's shawls, partly because it was nice and warm, and partly because it gave the image of her being shaken, terrified and traumatized – which she was, but not to the point of needing something warm to help her shivers. The frightened trembling part was over. Two days ago.
Uncle Dawood, Asim and William were also present for the meeting. And not too long ago, Zayn had arrived. Salma was surprised. She did not know her father would call him in. The two of them just exchange a few quick, 'hey, how're you doing?', 'So, what's going on?', 'Tell you later,' looks before he sat down next to Asim. Salma threw a quick glance at William, but was relieved to see him completely ignoring the new entry, too busy with his phone to bother with anyone else.
Lastly, in attendance was the person for whom this little gathering was arranged in the drawing room; Special Agent, Alexandra 'Alex' Wickfield, FBI. And currently, she was at the receiving end of a mighty good verbal thrashing by Salma's father.
"I always thought it was weird that the thugs were always only after my Salma!" he continued. "They found out who she was, where she lived and where she went for shopping and school, and whatnot, and she had only ran into them briefly in the forest. It's not like they could have found out her name, her identity, where she'd come from or where she'd go, just by chasing her through trees, and yet, they tracked her back to this very town and started attacking her. But somehow, they never knew anything about Zayn. Who he was? Where he lived or traveled to? And they never bothered to track and pin down anyone else from your team."
Salma turned to Zayn and Asim sitting across from here, surprised that she did not think of this before. Asim too, turned to Zayn, who was frowning and eyeing the agent, his friend, questioningly. Judging from his expression, it was evident that, like Salma, he too, had not thought it weird that only Salma had been the target of X-RAW attacks, till her father pointed it out.
"That's an extremely wrong assumption on your end. My team has had multiple --"
"I don't have to spell it out to you, for you to understand my point, Agent Wickfield! Someone has been feeding them information about Salma, making her a clear target for them!" Mr. Rahman accused, a hard scowl directed at the agent sitting in front of him. "I'm saying that someone is you! You used my daughter, risking her life for your own motives! You tried to use her to get them out of their hiding with absolutely no regard for her safety!"
"Mr. Rahman, we tried everything to –"
"She was inches from her death two nights ago!" Mr. Rahman cut in angrily.
Zayn looked between Alex and Mr. Rahman, looking shocked and confused. Salma figured her father had not told him she had been used as bait and consequently, attacked by the X-RAW.
"Where were you when she had a gun pointed at her?!" he fumed. "You took her from our doorstep, without my permission, or her explicit consent! You never informed her you were going to use her as bait before hurrying her on! Then, when she was kidnapped! Taken by the thugs, right under your nose! And now there's a third party included, of which you have no clue. Agent Wickfield, she may be one of the many in the crowd to you, but my daughter is not dispensable!'
"Mr. Rahman, you've gotten the wrong idea here," Agent Wickfield tried to placate him. Salma was strangely aware of that very quick side glance she threw at Zayn. It was not impossible that she would not have wanted Zayn in the audience while Mr. Rahman was coming at her, all guns blazing, accusing her of putting his daughter in danger.
"I've got no time for any wrong or right ideas." Mr. Rahman shook his head, fixing the agent with a very hard and threatening glare. "This is my kid we're talking about. The idea here is that this is the last time she'll ever participate in any such activities for you.
"Of course, Mr. Rahman, it was –"
"The last time you dare treat us like this!" Mr. Rahman interrupted angrily, an underline threat clear in his tone.
Salma threw her father a cautious look. He was now actually, really angry and Salma was not sure if he should blow his fuse like that. The agent was cunning. This could get ugly.
"We may not be white, privileged, popular or famous, but we are a proud people, Agent Wickfield," he continued. "And we value our blood like nothing else! Sthooriy aren't called stars for nothing. We shine and look beautiful, but those fancy twinkles, are also exploding fires that burn and blast. You might want to keep your distance from us, from this point on."
Everyone, except Uncle Dawood turned to Mr. Rahman, surprised. Was he openly threatening the agent? His eyes were spitting fire at her. He actually meant what he said.
The agent cocked her head, studying the man in front of her. Her expressions were set in grim lines. She looked deeply unsettled by Mr. Rahman's offense, but also, offended by his audacity to threaten her.
"I have already written to the Sthooriy embassy and have requested protection," Mr. Rahman announced. "I cannot trust my daughter's safety to an agency who only values the people they personally know."
"You're overreacting to this!" Agent Wickfield finally spoke. "Miss Rahman's safety has always been a priority."
"Great!" Atif Rahman exclaimed sarcastically, clapping once. "Then if the embassy assigns its citizen a Green Coat for 24/7 protection, that's win-win for both of us!"
The agent stiffened. She fixed the man sitting across with a shrewd look.
"Green Coats are not allowed to practice in this country!" she said
"Neither are the X-Raw or this third party, are they, agent Wickfield?" Mr. Rahman retorted, before getting up to his feet. "I have already informed the ambassador, so I might ask you to not resort to any kind of blackmail or coercion to force us into compliance. The embassy has reassured me that they will call upon the state department in the event of any such thing happening. I apologize Agent Wickfield, but I have a family to protect."
Agent Wickfield nodded curtly, looking grim. Salma's father took his leave.
***
Zayn shot to his feet and followed after the agent to her car. He was so upset and disappointed by her betrayal that he could not find the right words to confront her with. However, he need not have bothered. The agent was more than willing to grab the chance at trying to come clean to him. The moment she caught sight of him trudging through the snow to have a word with her, she started defending what she had done.
"It wasn't like that!" Alex began.
Zayn looked at her with contempt, coming to halt in front of her.
"Yeah?" he raised a sarcastic brow. "Bee isn't the kind of person to just spout out lies for the sake of it!"
"She was traumatized, alright! She doesn't remember what happened!"
"Oh, so there are parts that she had forgotten in her trauma?"
"She's misread the situation. She was always safe –"
"Safe like Chris pulling a gun on her –"
"I was watching and I stepped in to prevent that!"
"And your subordinates yelled at you for doing that!" Zayn shot back. "If that doesn't spells, 'the bureau did not care for her life,' nothing does!"
"Ben may have been frustrated, but I am the boss! Therefore, I call shots on how things are done, and who is priority!" Alex retaliated. "One junior officer's rant is not the official strategy! Salma's safety was always a priority in this mission!"
"Shit priorities you got there, if racing your junior officers to a shooting is more important than trying to prevent an innocent person from getting kidnapped or killed, right under your nose!"
Alex slammed her fist on the side of her car's roof, making snow crack and splatter everywhere.
"You listen to me, and listen well, Harris!" The agent gritted her teeth. "I can see how tightly she has you wrapped around her pinky since you can't see past your deary beloved getting harmed, but half the shit they say I stirred, wasn't my doing! Yes, I took her out on a field op, and yes she got exposed to danger! But if you think her kidnapping was the X-RAW's doing you've got cowdung for brain! I will take blame for everything but that!"
Zayn narrowed his eyes at her.
"Oh, I see where you're going with this again—"
"No seriously!"
"Let me guess, 'She's shady, and her family is shady –'"
"Harris!"
"--And her father keeps visiting the embassy. They're the distributing point of Agha Gul's drug cartel--"
"You got to be kidding me if you can't see the problem here!"
"I, Special Agent Alexandra Wickfield, aint got shit for evidence but I am obsessed with finding problems where there aren't!"
"She came back!" Alex spat, stopping Zayn mimicry of her. "She came back in one piece, alive, unscratched! How do you suggest that happened? The X-RAW would have killed her, first chance they got."
"She escaped!" Zayn returned.
"After a lucky accident that killed Chris and the driver?" Alex asked, trying to make Zayn see sense. "What happened to the car that knocked the van out like that? Where's the driver?"
"I don't get paid to solve 'hit and run' mysteries for you, Alex! That's your job," Zayn returned. "Do better! It's good enough for me that she survived the accident with minor injuries and got the chance to break free and get herself help – thank God for that, might I add! Because you, I have absolutely nothing to thank for!"
"I can't believe you find no problem in their story, which is full of cracks!" Alex shook her head, disappointed.
"My problem is that you lied to me," Zayn replied. "I told you Bee was out of bounds. If I did not make it clear back then, let me spell out to you now. She's family! It doesn't matter what story she's spun. You used her as bait when I told you that should never be the case."
"She agreed to help! The whole point of this field op was to make her safer, Zayn! She understood that and wanted to help put an end to that threat, once and for all!"
"Guess we know who I believe more, don't I?" Zayn shrugged, taking a step away from her. "It sure isn't the one who was dangling a person like a lump of meat to get the dogs."
"You still need me against the danger that lurks around you!" Alex said as a last resort. She realized he was calling it quits. "I did you a favor!"
"Nah, it was my favor that has enabled you to do all of this," Zayn replied, looking disgusted. "Wish I would never have helped you back when Carmen died!"
"Zayn --"
"A career built on bodies!" Zayn spat, walking back towards Salma's house. "Don't show me your sick face ever again, Alex. And that's the most polite you'll ever find me after what you've been doing to Bee. We're done!"
***
Taking his time to process the bitterness and the shock of Alex's betrayal, Zayn caught a moment alone in the cold driveway. He watched the powdery flakes of snow slowly blanket the street in a gown of white. A tall, bony figure appeared out of the door that Zayn knew to be Sterling's house. It took him a while to realize that he was, indeed, looking at his rival, himself. Zayn squinted his eyes to see better through the falling snow. Now that Sterling was not sitting on a couch, with an oversized hoodie, and a cushion lying on his lap, the change seemed alarming and drastic. No mane of curls, no healthy fat or muscular bulk. Just a skeleton and a paler that made him look quite sick. Sterling picked up a parcel lying on the door step and went back in.
Zayn kept staring at the door through which he had disappeared, unable to comprehend the extreme loss of his weight.
Did Sterling relapse?
A cheery laugh emanating from the sitting room behind him snapped him back to the present. Successfully distracted from Alex's blatant double-cross, Zayn slowly made his way back to the house, realizing only now how cold his hands and feet had gotten with his short break outside.
A warmth embrace him the moment he stepped into the house. He paused in the foyer, not sure if he should go in any further, or ask permission and announce his presence. Asim passed by in the sitting room on his way to the kitchen, still laughing.
"Zayn, could you shut the door behind you bro!" he said, shivering a little to emphasize his point, before disappearing into the kitchen.
"Sure," Zayn muttered, grabbing the door. He felt a drastic change in temperature as the cold gusts blowing in cut short.
Zayn once again looked around awkwardly as he took his shoes off. Should he go to the kitchen? He threw a quick glance at the open door to his left. Or go back and sit in the drawing room?
He was surprised and relieved to see Salma waiting for him in the drawing room. Smiling, Zayn walked into the room. Salma got up from her seat and, giggling like an excited schoolgirl, ran towards him with open arms.
Zayn chuckled, pleasantly surprised by the warmth of her welcome, as she engulfed him in a hug.
"I've missed you!" Salma said.
"That makes two of us!" Zayn pulled her closer into his embrace. "I'm so glad to find you safe. I'm sorry for what Alex did."
"It's not your fault," Salma replied, pulling back. "I suppose she meant well too. She's your friend. I trust her to have tried her best to keep me safe."
"Still doesn't excuse her idiocy though," Zayn said. "Also, even if she's my friend, I want you to be more careful. These agents always have a goal of their own. They can't be trusted."
Salma looked away, disturbed.
"Words like these are troubling when you are surrounded and protected by agents all the time," Salma admitted. "If Alex can do that, who's to say Spogmae or Burak Kaka won't. . ."
Zayn patted the side of her head.
"It'll be alright." He gave her a tight smile. "But if you have to ask me, I'd trust Agent Spogmae more than Agent Tufan."
Salma smiled.
"You just don't like Burak Kaka."
"I don't." Zayn admitted. "He's shady."
"Agreed."
Zayn frowned, eyeing her comically.
"What?" Salma asked.
He felt her temperature then lightly knocked his knuckles against the side of her head.
"Are you okay?" he asked, "or is it a case of an empty head?"
Salma slapped his hand away, pouting playfully. Zayn laughed, casually fixing his beanie as he did so. Salma frowned at his hair.
"You're blond."
Zayn looked up as if to check a wisp of his hair peeking out.
"Of course, I am." He smiled, removing his beanie and running his hand through his dyed hair. "It's game time. Arethas is blond."
"Just put the beanie back on, and stay Zayn," Salma said, snatching the beanie from his hand and trying to put it back.
Zayn felt a mixture of amused confusion as he watched her struggle on her tippy toes to push all his hair under the beanie.
"What?" Salma asked, feeling his questioning gaze. She was turning progressively redder as she caught up with her actions. "I'm not used to a blond you," she mumbled her defense, but continued to pull the beanie over his ears anyway. "You look so different. Makes me want to put my guard up."
"Oh no," Zayn faked alarm. "We definitely don't want that guard up! It's a whole fortress! An impenetrable wall that puts the Great Wall of China to shame!"
Salma dropped her hands and glared at him playfully. And in response, Zayn threw his head back in a hearty roar of laughter.
First draft: June, 2018
Zayn turned off the ignition under the parking shed, built at one side of the mansion. Salma took a nervous look around. It was still snowing heavily, covering the otherwise well-kept lawns in a blanket of white. She could barely make the wrought iron gates they had passed through, in the side-mirror, and up ahead, the tall white mansion loomed like a graceful snowy beast of sorts, against the pitch black sky.
"Are you ready?" Zayn asked.
"I suppose," Salma replied quietly, eyeing the mansion apprehensively.
The expanse of the house, the designs and the overall rich outlook of the place made her anxious. Such lavish display of wealth always scared her. Salma felt Zayn's warm fingers reaching for her hand, making her turn to him, away from the massive structure in front of her. He smiled.
"It's going to be alright," Zayn reassured her. "Grandpa is a really easy-going person. Don't worry."
Zayn gave her hand a squeeze. Salma nodded, but her nerves continued as she turned back to the mansion they were about to enter.
"Are you just as filthy rich?" she finally asked him timidly, feeling overwhelmed by the grandeur of the Walter residence.
"Arethas is," Zayn shrugged. "Zayn isn't."
Salma swallowed, feeling uneasy. She was not sure what to make of his reply. Did he or did not like to live the extravagant life?
"I'm not into all of this, to be fair," Zayn said.
Salma turned to him to see him smiling at her. He seemed to have picked up on her anxiety.
"I have a whole dual life just to make sure I keep a taste of normalcy. I'll kick Arethas out, whenever you ask, Zayn will stay with you."
Salma forced a smile when Zayn squeezed her hand again.
"Come on," he said. "We have to go."
Taking in a deep breath, Salma braced herself for a meeting with Zayn's grandfather.
"Alright." She sighed. "Let's go."
Salma followed Zayn out of the car. She made it a point to keep her eyes fixed on the floor so she would see little and be worried by little. However, the ground passing beneath her feet was just as interesting. First came the brick-red tough-tiles of the shed and the path leading up to the main house, then came the snow-white, polished marble of the stairs leading up to the front door, and then the smooth, shiny tiles of the foyer and the entrance hall. They alternated between black and off-white and gleamed like a mirror, reflecting the tall chandeliers and the many lights of the roof above.
Zayn started walking towards one side of the entrance hall. Salma followed after him blindly, latching onto his arm, as if for protection against the tall figurines and the massive painting and tapestries on the wall. For once, Salma was immensely grateful that Zayn loved holding her hand.
"He'll try to scare you," Zayn said as he reached for a golden knocker on the door. "Don't be intimidated. It's just a show, trust me."
He knocked twice, making the sound echo with a resounding crash in the strangely quiet and empty mansion. She swallowed her nerves. She was already quite uncomfortable with the glitters around her, without Zayn's warning about his grandfather.
"Come in!" a voice said. It sounded authoritative, but oddly kind and fatherly.
Zayn twisted the handle and opened the sturdy door.
"Come on," he whispered, putting a hand on Salma's back to lead her inside.
The ball of nerves in Salma's stomach tightened as she stepped in. However, the sudden warmth of the room inside and the sweet smell of paper and books took her by a pleasant surprise. Salma looked up to realize she had stepped into a library.
Immediately relaxing, Salma turned to Zayn to see him nodding.
"It's his study," he said quietly, taking her hand again and walking, between rows upon rows of bookshelves, stacked on both sides of the long room. They finally came to the other end of the story to a merry cracking fire burning in the fireplace, surrounded by an assortment of many comfortable chairs and couches in various hues of red, and rich Persian carpet on the floor. Zayn's Grandfather's study was just as extravagant as any part of the mansion, but the warmth of the fire, the sweet scent of books and the old man sitting in one of the comfortable, plush lounge chair, with a steaming cup of tea, made it a lot less overwhelming and a lot cosier.
"Hello there, young lady," said a kind old man. He had pearl white hair, blue eyes and wore glasses. Salma figured if he grew a beard, he would be perfect as a father Christmas. "I had to threaten my son into letting me see you, but here we are, finally. Come on, take a seat!"
***
Salma was overcome by another fit of laughter as Grandpa Steve indulged in a new hilariously embarrassing story of Zayn when he was young. The old man came prepared for the meet-up. He had dug up all the albums with pictures and stories of every mess-up and every hiccup in Zayn's life, that Salma was certain he wished had never happened.
Grandpa Steve was an amazing host. He was easy-going, full of anecdotes and very friendly. Salma need not have worried so much about meeting. Earlier, as they arrive, Salma had kept the niqab on, but once tea was served in the study and Zayn had reassured her no one would enter the study unannounced, she removed her veil. She noticed the old man eyeing her, now bare-faced, with interest.
"So, this mask business –"
"Grandpa!" Zayn protested.
"What? I'm just harmlessly curious!" he defended himself.
"It's alright," Salma reassured Zayn with a smile.
"You heard the lady of the night!" Grandpa Steve said, turning away from Zayn. "Stay out of our business, boy."
Zayn let out a sigh and rolled his eyes, muttering something about an old drama queen.
"So, this mask thing, what do you call it?" the old man started again.
"A niqab," Salma answered. "Or a veil. Mask works too, you know. Zayn once modeled this whole attire into a superhero uniform, the face piece can be a mask."
Zayn smiled at her alluding to his Super Bee comics.
"He drew you?" Grandpa Steve asked, amazed.
"Yeah," Salma replied.
"That's a surprise," the old man said, throwing Zayn a look. "I don't remember the last time he drew people."
"I draw people all the time," Zayn quickly defended.
"Yeah?" Grandpa Steve challenged. "Who was it, apart from her?"
Salma pretended she had been listening to the cracking of the fire in the fireplace all along, and had never been aware of the sudden awkward silence as Zayn tried to come up with a response.
"That's right," Grandpa Steve said smugly. "You wouldn't even draw me!"
"Just give me a pen and a paper, and I'll give you a quick sketch in five!"
"Anyway, so the veil, what's it called?" Grand Steve turned the conversation back to Salma's niqab, snapping her attention back to him.
"Niq—"
"Just stick to saying veil, grandpa," Zayn interrupted again.
"What I'm saying is, it's an interesting choice of garment," Grandpa Steve said, ignoring Zayn's interruption. "And I'm thrilled that I'm one of the few that gets the VIP pass, if you get what I mean?"
Zayn facepalmed as the old man laughed with mischief of a little boy, who had found a secret way to reach the cookie box kept on the high shelf.
"I'm happy to hear that." Salma chuckled.
"I'm embarrassed to hear that," Zayn groaned.
"And that reminds me!" Grandpa Steve clapped his hands. "Come here, Salma, come on, sit next to me. Let me show you something."
And with that, he reached for an old, thick album lying on the table next to him, and started telling her one story after the other about Zayn and his Grandma. Salma noticed he eyes always grew soft, and he paused, every time a fresh picture of Zayn's grandma came up in the album.
"And here's my magnificent lady again," he sighed as he appreciated another one of his wife's picture. Then, he frowned. "Oh, and is that --?"
The album was suddenly snatched out of his hands. Salma and Grandpa Steve looked up, startled to see Zayn, who had been watching over their shoulders, put the album far away from his grandpa's reach.
"That's enough stories," Zayn said.
Grandpa Steve started laughing.
"So it was the picture where you had ripped your pants!" the old man cried out laughing.
All color drained from Zayn's face. He turned to Salma who's mouth had dropped open. He seemed to die on the inside. One look at Zayn's panicked expressions, and she gave him her back, suppressing a fit of laughter. The old man was not so considerate. He laughed till he started tearing up, and then cried with laughter till he started wheezing.
Salma and Zayn actually got a little worried when his breathing got a little too bad.
"I'm okay!" He rasped, sniffing and wiping away tears, as they gathered around him, concerned. "I'm fine. Haven't had such a hearty laugh in a while . . . Now where's the album. I know another good story in there."
"No," Zayn pointed a warning finger at him, before tossing the album on the far couch behind him. "No more stupid stories. We don't fancy a visit to the ER tonight."
"Don't be a spoilsport," Grandpa Steve struggled to get his breath back. "You definitely take up after your grandma."
Zayn shook his head and huffed, but as he got back to his feet, Salma noticed a small, fond smile playing on his lips.
"Fine then, but run along and see if the dinner is ready," the old man instructed, stopping Zayn from taking a seat on one of the couches. "I've instructed old Hubert, but maybe you should do the last minute checks on your new diet and stuff."
Zayn frowned, then glanced at Salma and back again. It was only too obvious that Grandpa Steve just wanted him to leave them alone.
"Just ring the kitchen, I'm sure they've –"
"I need a word with Miss Rahman alone." The old man gave it to him straight.
Salma felt the knot in her stomach return. Zayn and she exchanged another glance. None of them was comfortable with leaving her alone with the old man, but both of them did not find it right protest.
Zayn sighed.
"Fine then," he grumbled. "Don't try to intimidate or scare her, grandpa."
His grandpa scoffed.
"And definitely don't try to turn her against me!" Zayn warned.
"Just check on the dinner preparations, boy!" Grandpa Steve scolded. "Let me have a chat with Salma."
Salma felt her gut clench with anxiety as she heard the door of the study shut close behind Zayn. She curled her toes, preparing herself for an interrogation.
***
Salma startled when she felt a hand coil around her bicep, making her halt. She turned around to see Zayn. He nodded silently, letting her know that he intended for his Grandpa to enter the dinner hall. Once the old man was out of ear shot, Zayn turned to her looking concerned.
"Are you okay?" he barely whispered, studying her carefully.
Salma felt her throat tightened. The heaviness in her heart was increasing with each passing second.
"Of course," she said, trying to play it cool. She would have attempted to smile, but she knew she might end up crying just trying, so she just stuck to acting confused.
Salma started walking towards the dinner hall again, but Zayn grabbed her arm a second time, stopping her.
"What?" Salma asked.
Zayn did not say anything but searched her eyes. Salma swallowed and looked away from his eyes going to and fro between hers. She felt exposed, like he could see right through her crumbling façade.
"Bee what did he say to you –"
"Nothing!"
"Because if he has made you feel –"
"Zayn, it's nothing!" Salma said, as earnestly as she could. She took his hand, that was grabbing her arm, in both of her and gave it a squeeze, doing her best to force smile. "Your grandpa is the loveliest old man I've met! I'm just really exhausted!"
Salma thought Zayn did not look convinced but after a few seconds, he nodded, letting her sudden shift in mood be.
"Zayn! Son, come on!" his Grandpa called from the dinner hall. "Bring our guest over. She must be hungry!"
First Draft: December 25, 2021
Zayn's P.O.V
Right after her brief private audience with his grandfather, Salma had seemed really quiet and depressed. Although, she had tried to play it off as her being tired, Zayn knew there was more to it. However, he could not really think of what could have been said, or have happened, during her chat with Grandpa Steve. Zayn had already explained and emphasized a lot of things to his grandpa, and made him promise not to do, or say any of the things that he felt would embarrass, or make Salma feel uncomfortable. What could the old man have done?
Even as she sat down for dinner, she seemed really distant and distracted. Zayn wondered if his grandpa had told her of his potential move to Europe?
But he would not do that? Zayn thought to himself as he watched Salma faking a smile and interest in each dish that his grandpa was uncovering and explaining.
"Oh, and I made sure to make it all halal!" Grandpa Steve said excitedly. "Hubert went up to that Kosher meat store in the shopping center, no vine was used as an ingredient and definitely no pork!"
"That's so very thoughtful of you!" Salma replied, looking visibly more relaxed and excited for dinner. "Everything looks and smells delicious! Thank you so much!"
"Well, help yourself!" the old man laughed.
As Salma started trying a little bit of everything, and chatted away with his grandfather about each of the delicacies and where it came from, Zayn wondered if perhaps she had been worrying about the dinner being served and was too polite to voice her concerns?
"Yes, that's enough. Thank you so much! This is actually really tasty!" Salma gushed up praises for the dishes, and grandpa's choices, and also, old Hubert, much to grandpa's delight. "Has Hubert been around really long?"
Zayn smiled, helping himself to another helping of lasagna. She was definitely worried about the halal meat. The two foodies were bonding very well over food, and as her tiny, little stomach was filling up with delicious delicacies from Hubert's kitchen, every hint of her earlier depression and distant behavior vanished.
Author's Note:
First off, EID MUBARAK!! 🥳🥳🥳
Sorry for being super late! Eid is basically over but I was busy and also had connection issues in the times I tried.
Anyways, a lot happened in this chapter. Zayn called it quits on Alex, and Salma met his grandpa. What do you think? Will it expose Zayn to more dangers? Also, did Grandpa do something shady when Zayn was gone to check on dinner?
Vote comment and share!
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Lots of love
J.