Big merciless hands were around her neck, pinning it against the head of the swivel leather chair. Her eyes were widening every increasing pressure he was putting to strangle her. The already pitch black, soundless office premises became more silent, those small blinking lights from here and there were now fading away as well. None of her muscle moved, aside from the aggressive beat of her heart. Her mouth was slack, losing the ability to retaliate. It was like she had sunk under the evil torrents of water and was gasping for oxygen.
When she thought his knuckles would butcher her throat and it would be her last, there came a subdued crashing noise. The lights flooded the room and in came a bunch of people, all geared with weapons. She was left coughing violently as she slid on the floor, struggling to catch some breath.
The room seemed to dance around her, with people toppling all over it. She could hear faint police car sirens from somewhere, but that was only what she sensed. She didn't have a clue who was attempting to murder her, or if he was still there. All she could make out was that the police had reached in time.
The next thing she knew was that Drake was leading her towards the elevator and then through the emergency exit behind the building, she didn't realize it was him. She was made to sit in the car and before he could start, she fought with her dopey self to catch a glance at who it could be.
She tried to sneak and push open the door, but it was child locked!
Great. Just great, she sighed, rubbing her tensed muscles at the nape of her neck.
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Riya tossed and turned in an icy discomfort under her duvet. Trying to make herself fall into a slumber, she took heavy breaths, but many just caught in her throat, as if a hurricane had blown and frozen the air solid inside.
At that moment, she knew it was going to be a long night. A struggling one.
She tapped her phone and a heavy load of brightness spilled on her pale face. 3:09 AM.
It had been four hours since she was back home; Drake had dropped her off. He had walked her to the elevator of her building and just when she thought he'd return to his car from there, he had also seen her in her apartment until there was a click from inside and beyond. She had peeked from the eyehole that he'd stood there for about five minutes and scanned around the entire floor. She'd never understood what was Drake always doing, hurdling after her, stalking her, joining the same workplace as her's and what else not? How did he know her address? What was the motive? Was someone after her? Obviously!
After the strangling attack, someone was clearly on an agenda of finishing her with their bare hands. She was stopped to dig deeper into that murder case and it started to make some sense out of the whole scene of the night. She had been foolish enough to go in Mr. Hadad's office at first and her over the top smartness to spy on his computer was a big facepalm into her own face.
A wave of irritation rose within her. She pushed off the duvet and sat up, switching on the night lamp installed on the wall above her head. With a click, she switched it back off.
On.
Off.
On.
Off.
On.
When a big rock like realization hit her head, she flew out of her bed and rummaged in her chest of drawers for a notebook and pen. She switched on all the lights, sat cross-legged on the foot of her bed on the floor and put on her thinking cap; the same cap which sometimes falls off her head and isn't found for days.
At the top of the page, she wrote 'Airport'; big and in bold. Dragging an arrow from under it, next she wrote, 'Highway.' She kept linking the sequence, one after the other of the places she remembered having seen Drake. The last time she had seen him before he joined her office, was in Istanbul, in that police car.
Then, she started writing the places where she had been attacked. The first one was in Kalam Valley, between those ridgy mountains while horseriding. Moutasim had consoled her, the memory of him lingered in a fuzzy magic, leaving a soft smile to turn up on her otherwise freaked out face. She trailed a finger across her cheek, where he had kissed off her tears and then her lips; the ones he had claimed like there was no tomorrow, in the hut before they had never seen each other, ever again.
Every death she had seen so up close with, Moutasim had been there to push it far from her, every single time, except for today. She felt like crying, the mechanism started to gear up, but she forced herself not to.
She noticed the prayer mat at near her wardrobe that she had left after praying the Isha'a Salah, with its corner turned up in a small triangle. She hugged her knees and threw her head back on the edge of her bed.
Over the past few months, Riya had started to do the obligations, more like her life was carved out in such a twisting maze that she turned to no one but the Eternal Saviour. There was no one else, but Him. Alright, she had her family, her sister and also, her best friend, but she was no more in a phase where she could find peace in humans, it was long gone except Mishkat.
That's how it is, always. There is no love in this world which is entirely true, even if it is, it doesn't last too long; let alone forever, it's just too hypnotic. Our Rabb shows us all the realities of this world and the hearts that lie within it and then He asks, "Tell me, is there anyone your's except me?"
No.
Moutasim or not, life and death are all programmed, like a well-built software. The sole Programmer being only Allah, alone.
Tonight, Moutasim wasn't there, but her Lord had still given her life, yet again and had taken his the other day. Why? Gave someone and taken from someone else?
There'd be no logical reasoning ever because the Almighty is perfect and perhaps, He was making Riya realize repeatedly that life is like a road trip, you'd never know if it's long or short, pulling over for a few stops here and there, but never really knowing when it would end for once and for all.
Moutasim's road trip was a short one, but what would it have been like if it was long and he was with her, beside her, kissing away her tears?
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She could smell that it was Saturday, the tea, toast and butter tickled her to wake up. It was the only day that everyone was home or at least tried to be. She rolled over in her messy bed covers as the sunlight hissed at her face, a narrow streak of it peeping through the curtains.
She had buried the night before putting herself to sleep so that she could have a good one, which she absolutely did. There were no traces of nightmare, no heavy head from the trauma and certainly no anxiety.
There was a strange satisfaction, a kind of pleasure she'd never felt before. Riya was starting to love and live her life on the edge, where there were no promises if tomorrow would exist.
Her phone vibrated on the nightstand, reaching over, she grabbed it and lazily eyed the name that flashed.
She let out a groan.
Why was Younus Hadad calling on a Saturday morning? Of course, last night's episode in his office wouldn't go unnoticed by anyone, he was a biggest shrewd after all. She was sure that he'd suspend her, of which she cared less as long as she was on the job, working away to build the career of her dreams.
In a groggy voice, she took the call, "Yes?"
"Miss Riya? I called in to check if you're alright."
She had this sudden urge to laugh her bum off. Obviously, she didn't.
"I am," she chuckled, clearing her throat.
An accusing silence followed. The thick formality of an employer caring about an employee's wellbeing was starting to take a toll. He didn't give a damn and Riya knew it well, still, what could she possibly have done other than play along?
He did not inquire what exactly led her to sneak in his office or what was up with her creeping into his computer. He spoke nothing of the attacker or didn't say a few words of consolement. Why would he do that? He was the chief attorney, not an actor.
"You can take a week off," he started offering, in a quick attempt to finish the call, "Join us back on next Sunday?"
Okay, in all his wickedness, this was the most considerate of things he said. Who knows? Might he have a plan to end my road trip before Sunday even comes? The thought had her nearly giggling.
"Sure, thank you!" She hastily hung up and tossed her phone aside, jumped out of her bed and started to get ready.
The weekend was the perfect getaway to begin a week-long unexpected holiday. She had a lot of things to pick up where she'd left them hanging time and again due to work.
She helped her mom with breakfast and after what seemed like ages, they all ate together, each sharing pieces of their busy lives with one another.
Her mom told them about how the sales at her boutique were skyrocketing since December is always the season for desi weddings. She showed Riya the latest collection of some gorgeous, elegant attires that were just dispatched from the designer's belt. She was happy how her mom had a life of her own, an identity she had created for herself. Though they all were worried about her condition which was falling slowly, it was getting noticeable. For this reason, in a few months, she was going to be retired as the professor and then as planned by her, she'd totally focus on her business.
Riya had once heard her mom's friend say that she had become the way she did, like the odd behaviour she often had, memory loss, high symptoms of dementia, it all happened because she took some severe trauma of Riya's life; her apparent husband's death.
Although none of her parents ever brought up the topic of her re-marrying, they wanted to see her settle down with someone again, starting fresh. Settling down with someone, anyone was totally off her league. She no more wanted to associate her happiness with someone. Why can't people be happy all by their own self? Is there always a need for that someone to make our life worth it? Possibly not.
She was living the life she wanted to, after all, that had happened against her will. The forced marriage and yet, her parents expected to give someone another chance? She had tried really hard to stand for who she really was, there was no way she'd let that come down again. She was starting to find herself, to love her own self and it was the best feeling she'd ever feel; much better than falling in love with someone else.
Arshiya had brought up the scholarship she was going to be granted and sent to Turkey. As usual, their parents had no objection as long as she was happy, but Arshiya was reluctant. Maybe, she wasn't so sure about herself. That's how her baby sister has always been, isn't it? Riya made a mental note to talk her into it some other time.
Meanwhile, she took her phone out of her pocket and texted Mishkat for the meetup that she'd been cancelling for weeks. She got a little startled when her father waved her attention out of her phone.
"I asked, how are things at work?"
Such an off time for him to ask this when it was all chaotic and mad. She shivered at the memory of those reckless hands around her neck. How could she tell her family that she'd been attacked and that her boss was possibly involved with the mafia?
"Fine," it was all she managed to say.
She knew her father was pinning her with a look as if wanting to say that he knew things were rough, but Riya had long given up on him. The belief she had on her Baba that he could do anything for his first-born was lost somewhere amidst the much madness of their life.
Somewhere, she felt that he had been using the very value she had for him and had used it to her absolute vulnerability. Truth, lies, deceit and checkmate. All were someone else's masterstrokes; Riya, the ultimate pawn.
Much to her sensibility, these things were just her doubts and she had no absolute clue that there was actually a big strategic game where she had really been used like a dupe.
Evilness personified.
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"You've gotta be kidding me!" Mishkat spilt the mocha frappuccino out of her mouth in a sudden cough.
Riya handed her some tissues, "I'm actually loving it." She had filled in her best friend on everything that had been happening at work.
"Riya, I need to inform your parents about not letting you go back to work," Mishkat was getting hysterical.
"If you do that, I'm going to give those criminals your address so that they can finish you first," She warned her.
Poor Mishkat, she was really frightened to know about the attack and especially, she had very bad vibes about the guy Drake. She was somewhere around the corner to convince Riya that he would be the last human she'd see because he was on an agenda to kill her.
She grabbed her arm and started pulling her towards the car, "I don't want to stay out into the open when there are so many people working as full jobs to take your life, Riya."
She giggled and stopped her, "I think, they wouldn't kill me so soon. The game isn't over, maybe there's a bit more left to exploit me."
"Huh?" Mishkat was totally off the scene, how would she know the whole depth of it?
Riya shook her head and dragged her across the footpath to take a stroll along the pond where a hundred flamingos flapped and splashed water with their wings. She had driven to the outskirts of Abu Dhabi, an hour and a half away from her own mad city to breathe in some fresh air near the serene nature.
For a Saturday afternoon, the place was empty. Perhaps, people had forgotten about nature or they must have been too indulged in the fancies of civilisation; shopping malls.
Along the edge of the pond were long grown moorland grass; the kind which is light and airy, and when the wind blows, it seems like they'd blow away with it. The pond had no fences or barriers, it was left open, free for any species to cross one another's habitat.
They spotted some huge rocks just along the pond and sat, slipping their shoes off to dip their feet in. Mishkat slurped her mocha while Riya sipped some classic coffee. Both sat in silence as if hushing down the storm within themselves that had risen up so big and loud.
The cold water seeped in through her feet, like a thief of heat, taking what it doesn't need. A numbness crept in her mind, she closed her eyes and felt like being in another universe. The pack of flamingos had glided to a distance, dipping their heads in the water and shaking it out. They sent ripples, long and far, which must have been the only hint that there was life in that land, otherwise, it was too pure and filled with beautiful stillness.
"You know what Riya?"
"Hmm?" Her eyes were still shut.
"I wonder," she paused and bit her lip, "I wonder if Moutasim was here and..."
Her eyes flickered open and eyed Mishkat, despairing to know what she'd say next, "And?"
"If you'd choose to stay married to him." She pondered aloud, sceptically.
Riya sighed, "Somethings are meant to be the way they are. There's no point in arguing with fate nor does 'ifs' do any justice to the mighty power of our destiny."
She stared deeply in the pond, the ripples merging out bigger than the previous ones, almost like an echo.
"He's gone for good, Mishkat. At least I've learnt to value his selfless being, something I would have still taken for granted if he was still around." She smiled somberly.
Mishkat threw her arm around her shoulder and moved closer, "You miss him, don't you?"
She was stumped but uttered nothing.
Crap.
It was like a self-revelation. Yes, she missed him. Missed him like a mad woman.
She missed him like someone misses their own. Like icecream misses their cone.
She smiled sheepishly and hugged back the person she could never go wrong about. Mishkat was the biggest reason Riya had been able to reconstruct her life. If not because of her, she would have been in a mental asylum by now.
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Sachi mohabbat shayad wohi hai
Jisme junoon hai Jisme junoon hai
Par do dilon ki yaari mein bhi to
Kitna sukoon hai Kitna sukoon hai
This chapter is dedicated to all those beautiful friendships which have our backs to make the worst times a little bearable. Friends who want nothing, but your presence always in their life are truly gems. Don't ever let them go no matter what because in a world full of self-obsession, selflessness is rare.
To my best friend,
With love.