I was a whore. That was the only logical explanation for my actions four days ago. Since then, I had been avoiding Liam like the plague, even though it was my fault. Every time I looked in the mirror at my face, specifically my lips, a surge of electricity flowed through my body, numbing my limbs. However, I would immediately say the words, “I am a whore” out loud, to remind myself that I was, indeed, a whore. It must have amused Zayn because I would hear his suppressed laughter from the bedroom every time I said these words to myself in the attached bathroom while preparing for bed. Regardless of my crazy antics, Zayn had no reason to explain my self-depravation. He did not know that Liam and I had shared a kiss. I had no idea how he would react if he found out and as much as I didn’t want him to, a small portion of myself was curious to see what kind of expression he would wear if he did. I felt horrible. Yes, I was a plainly insane whore. That seemed to sum things up nicely.
In the meantime, things between Zayn and I had returned to “normal.” Well, as “normal” as things between the pair of us would get. Regardless to say, there were, for the most part, no hard feelings against Zayn on my part. It wasn’t as if I had forgotten about his day-long vacation to Miss Bronston’s home; no, I would probably never forget that. Things were manageable between us and I was content with that.
I was finishing up some business over the phone with an older man by the name of Leonard Patruzzi. He was an Italian worker at Malik Industries who was having a substantial amount of trouble with his working permit due to his citizenship in Italy. Malik Industries, rather Zayn’s father, had asked me to talk to him about his permit and help him maintain his job at the Industries. It was a kind gesture on behalf of the company and I was honored to be given the task. I had a fair economic background from my Princeton degree and was, therefore, able to discuss legal details pertaining to his working permit. After ensuring that he would be able to maintain his position at Malik Industries, followed by a prolonged thanking, I hung up the phone with a triumphant smile on my face. I couldn’t ignore how rewarding that had left me feeling.
When I rose to my feet and trotted over to the dining room to join Zayn for dinner, I heard someone come in from the side entrance, the door directly connected to the main Malik estate. I poked my head around the wall of the hallway I was currently in, eager to get a look at the individual. I was shocked to see Mr. Azad passing through the hall, nodding to some of the maids. What was he doing here? Well, it was his estate, but… I watched cautiously as he disappeared into the dining room, where I had originally been heading. I gathered my courage and followed him to the destination, wearily making my way across the hallway.
The dining room seemed full with tension when I arrived. Zayn and Mr. Azad were seated at their respective seats, both staring at the plates of food as they were placed before them by the maids. I cautiously walked to the chair closest to where I was, unsure whether I should or shouldn’t say something to break the tension. However, when I sat down, Mr. Azad dived into conversation.
“How are you, Farah dear?” He asked with a warm smile, his hands folded on the table as a maid draped a cloth napkin across his lap.
I stared back at him. I hadn’t seen his since the wedding, four months ago. Surely he wasn’t dropping by after all of this time to check on me. Was he? If he was, I wasn’t nearly as accustomed to that as he may have guessed.
I chose my words carefully. “Fine, and how are you, Mr. Malik?”
“Just fine. How are you and Zayn?”
He seemed to ignore his son all together, directing all the conversation to me. I glanced over at Zayn and saw that he was neatly cutting a piece of grilled chicken with his fork and knife. He didn’t seem bothered by it. Then again, he was probably trying to hinder his anger from consuming the best of him; he was most likely still upset about his father naming his elder brother, Jamal, as Vice-President of the Industries in the crude manner that he had. I didn’t blame him for his current silence; it was a terrible thing Mr. Azad had done.
