Don't Remind Me

Chapter 44: The Blood Roses

'Why don't you wear something red today? I think you look pretty in red. Exotic. You should look pretty today.' Maria tried to be nonchalant, as I fretted in front of my neatly lined closet. 

Ruby likes to neurotically arrange my clothes according to hues and textures. Honed by habit, my hands keep reaching towards the more subdued colors, but Maria's not having any of that. 

'It's just a date with Shay, sis. HE isn't going to be there, so you can get off my case.' I rolled my eyes at my older sister. 

'So what, you're only going to dress up for him now?' Maria quirked a brow, 'Where's my Don't Need No Man-Laylee?' 

'Dork.' I muttered out loud, caving in to her suggestion, and choosing a pretty red lace Kurti to wear with my traiditonal pants. 'I miss Zaif. He should have been here yesterday.'

My sister hugged me from behind, planting a kiss on the top of my head, stroking my arms to comfort me, the best way she knows how. I hugged her back. 

Zaif had been shifted to Dad's Islamabad residence for more privacy, while Dad negotiated for his release from the house arrest. Apparently, Musa and his family were refusing to accept money for the damages, insisting instead on a complete humiliation of my brother, through trial after trial, press conference, after press conference. They were turning one heated moment of anger, into a war against Privileged tyranny. The Media was helping to fuel the fire, by talking about "Making an example" out of my brother, to "Fight the arrogant elite class" and their "Disregard for the rule of Pakistani Law".

The irony of it just about killed me. That Musa, the world's biggest privileged criminal example, was claiming the higher moral ground here.

'By the way. You got another flower delivery. Ruby arranged it in the foyer' Maria flicked a non-existent speck of dust from my Kurti. 

I flushed with pleasure when I contemplated Azaan's sweet gesture. This was the sixth day in a row, that I had received the huge bouquet of fresh cut flowers. 

'Lilies?' I asked eagerly. 

'Nope. Roses again.'  

I tamped down the disappointment when I realized that he had likely forgotten my favorite. It's the thought that counts, Layla. I reminded myself severely. Doesn't matter if roses actually make me want to hurl. It just shows how much he thinks about me!

 I made a mental note to thank him with something edible later. 

After we made up, it was impossible for Azaan and I to stay away from each other. We couldn't concentrate on work, and the drama surrounding my life. He kept popping up in my offices to steal from my snacks cabinet, insisting that my Lays packets tasted better than the ones his office has. 

He'd text me funny memes that he makes of people around his workplace. 

He'd call me in the middle of meetings, insisting that I take a pee-break. Then he'd drag me to the terrace garden below our floor, just to show me a garden patch, where someone had spelled out a rude word with burnt-out cigarette butts. 

Azaan just had a lot of himself to share. 

Not that I minded in the least! 

You see, we had a lot of catching up to do: Stories to tell. Ideas to exchange. Fights to fight. 

I always crack up when I remember the time he called me up when I was visiting some of my lawyers in Islamabad. 

"Hey, have you changed your relationship status on Facebook yet?" he asked out of the blue, making me drop my phone with shock.