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"Oh, darling. You can't fix yourself by breaking someone else."
Every young woman wants to marry Aryan Sheikh, the young, handsome Prince and a self-made businessman. His eyes are set on Yasmin Omer, the girl who has re...
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Al Legtaifiya Park – 7thJanuary 2018
SINCE THE COLD prevailing wind snatched body heat faster than it is replaced, Myra threw a thick black hoodie over her pink sweater. It will act as a shield until she is sweating enough to tie it around her waist on her weekly Sunday run at Al Legtaifiya Park.
However there is an ulterior motive today, one which can be fulfilled by none other than her neighbour, Emraan Jahani. Tall, lean body, a pecan brown skin tone which fluctuate between fair and tan, strong jaw, slick black hair, he is an epitome of male beauty.
Three months ago, he moved to Doha from Riyadh with his parents. They bought the abandoned villa next door and renovated it into the most luxurious one of their street. The first time her family received an invite for dinner, he shared a secret. Aside from being the owner of an art gallery in downtown Doha, he worked part time as a private detective in an agency named Blue Falcon. They have their representatives in every big city of Asia and Europe. Emraan told her if ever she needs him to investigate something (at that time he mentioned boyfriend issues with a wink), he'll be there.
Now, Myra needs him more than ever.
Jogging down the stairs, she caught her father climbing up with a towel dangling from his neck. He raised an eyebrow and turned his judging eyes to the window where the branches of the palm tree swayed in one direction.
"Are you sure about running at this time?"
"We ate lasagna and chicken wings last night. I have no choice," she replied in her defense while worry lines took their places on her forehead.
"We have a treadmill at home. No one will be out there. It's quite chilly."
Lies, Myra knew that Emraan Jahani will always be there even if there's a cyclone warning. It's the sole place she can meet and chat with him. The risk of family members eavesdropping their conversation at home whether hers or his, is higher than the tallest building in their hometown. Like the myth, walls have ears.
"I will be back soon. Please."
Musa's eyes softened at his daughter's request.
"Fine, give me a call when you're done, I'll come to fetch you."
Muttering a little thank you, Myra set out for the park on foot and joined by her little brother Zaynoul two minutes later. At sixteen soon to be seventeen, he had a good six inches height more than her. If one is not familiar, they will assume he is the elder one due to her own five feet one inch height and her child-looking face.
"It's cold," he emphasized, rubbing his hands on his biceps, a vain attempt to keep warm.
"The cold does not bother me. If you want to go home, you're welcome to be my guest."
