4.
"Ujhdo se lamho ko aas teri"
Asad
Even though I couldn't hear what her lips whispered, her frozen stance told me the answer.
My mind was spinning from the unknown fear and a million questions. I had told myself pretty solidly that Siddiquis were behind the catastrophe.
They were 'the original low lives' anyway. When they couldn't get control or hold of my success, they tried to thwart it.
But Ammi?
That part didn't quite add up. Why her? Targeting Ammi seemed too satanic, even for them.
Was it like Zoya suggested? Was it still my uncle's gundas who had cleverly locked themselves up in jail and then sent another man out to redeem their izzat? It was entirely possible that an inspector was in on this and was bribed heavily as we sat here and tried to decipher the answers.
But they were broadcasted on the news in daylight, weren't they? At some point the bribery gets out of hand and it gets too hard to control who you can protect. There was only so much money that could clear their name once their faces had been flashed over all the news channels.
It made me sick. All of it.
"His shirt" Ms. Farooqui yelped. I didn't how to react to her. "His shirt Mr. Khan" she implied as if I was privy to her thoughts and knew whatever that meant.
She read my eyes then and explained.
"When I was fighting his attack off" my jaw tightened involuntarily "he realized he wouldn't be able to shoot again and so he started escaping. I tried to stop him, to see his face, reveal his identity somehow. He pushed me off him and I landed on the ground. I latched onto his leg in the craziness; he violently jerked my hold off him and said and I quote "bloody bi*ch." My head spun more than it already was.
She confirmed what I was thinking "That confirms he was not a Mangalpur accomplice, since they would not know english well enough to holler curses like that. And most importantly Mr. Khan..." she leaned over and looked into my eyes deeply, coming close face to face "...when I got up on my feet and chased him down the hallway again, his shirt collar tore off and dropped on the floor. If he is a hired hardened criminal, which seems the case, we will find a file on him. We have his DNA!" she jumped ecstatically and ran towards the door. I tried to follow suit calling her out to slow down and lower the volume button while she was at it.
"Miss Farooqui?!...ahh"
"Allah Miyan!" she gasped and ran back to where I now kneeled on the floor. The sudden move had sent shocking waves of agony throughout my spine and shoulder blades.
"Oh God, are you okay?"
The phrase sent me down memory lane when I had seen her face for the first time up close and asked her the same question when my car had almost run her down.
'Are you okay?'
I had voiced with my words curiosity then, her words now voiced worry and maybe a hint of pain. Her big brown eyes looked at me with such perturbation I forgot my own for a second.
Why was it that her concern for me fanned feelings of unexplained validation. Even though the mind fought tooth and nail for not falling, the heart found ways for reassurance. I hated the fact that I felt deeply for this girl. I could never give her what she might expect from me.
And yet every touch full of concern sent my heart flying. My sane brain said she was an empathetic woman, and this would be anyone's logical response, but I liked daydreaming in the middle of a crisis.
