Divulging Remorse ✔

Chapter 7

He looked at her once more, she said something to her brother and Hufaiz turned around to look at Moutasim. Even though he tried not to make a fool out of himself standing there, staring at her, there was that static again. That sparkle in the air that's always happened whenever she got within a foot as himself. 

He thought if he stood there even a second longer, he'd be electrocuted to death. She had become prettier than before, her straight chestnut hair almost touched her waist now, and she had lost all that chubbiness from teenage.

One thing which pricked his eye was her indecent dressing style. She wore off-white capris; ending just below her knees, a teal blue tank top, a navy infinity scarf dangled loosely around her neck, and had brown leather flat pumps on with a matching handbag. 

He then looked over at a figure in black, from head to toe, even her face was covered, it got him puzzled. Arshiya?! He guessed with astonishment and chuckled at the stark difference between the two sisters. He really did lose track of each other's lives, obviously, it had been about three years since things were normal. 

Riya had gone in, followed by Arshiya, while Hufaiz gave Moutasim some doubtful looks and then entered inside.

But hadn't Riya always dressed this way? Why do I feel so weird about it now? Maybe because she isn't a little girl anymore, she should be dressed modestly...

The loud horn interrupted his self-reasoning and he jogged outside the iron gate. A black Silverado pickup truck waited for him. Two guys came out of the car, took off their sunglasses and shook Moutasim's hand.

He asked them, "All good?"

"Pretty good." One of them replied with a smile.

"Okay then, I'll call you when I need you."

Moutasim added, "I'll text you the address for the hotel."

They both nodded and got into the car, immediately driving away the truck. When he came back inside the mansion, everyone was gathered and seated in the huge fancy-looking foyer, meeting the three of them. As vintage as that mansion looked from the outside, its interior was oppositely modern and styled to cutting edge. Luxurious Persian rugs were spread on glossy wooden floors. 

Plush beige leather sofas printed abstract cushions to fill in the comfort and matching curtains billowed over large windows. The windows took up the entire three-dimensional square panelled walls with only shiny steel girders to divide them into another window. 

The ceiling that canopied yellow spotlights were scattered across. A magnificent chandelier hung in the middle, crystal stems branched out holding bright lights, tiny glass beads were stringed around each lamp. 

A fireplace was built into the empty white stone wall, over it was a richly carved cedar mantel, an exquisite glass clock stood in the middle and two crystal vase with daisies on either side.

The corridor at the right opened to an Italian style kitchen, with it connected a wide dining room which had a glass sliding wall overlooking a beautiful fruit orchard in the backyard. At the back of the kitchen was a small staircase that went down to the servant quarters. On the parallel side of the passageway, were a couple of bedrooms, one belonging to the Head of the family.

A grand staircase cornered the hall leading up to the bedrooms, where Arshiya sat on the lowest step, not wanting to sit among men who weren't mahram for her. They all were fully aware of her strict adherence to Islam, so none of them objectified to her or her practices. While Radmaan, who was only six, was very curious to find out who was behind that veil. He tried to tug it off and Arshiya laughed keeping him away.