Divulging Remorse ✔

Chapter 9

The light had long since faded away and dwindled to nothing, now as midnight tread firmly, the air became damper and cooler than it had been.

Moutasim sat on the patio by the pool, stretched out on a comfy sun lounger, with his MacBook. The silence was as pure as the star-speckled darkness, with only whispers of the cold wind crashing in his ears. Over the walls of the mansion, in the distance, he could see the trees and high ranged peaks silhouetted against the blanket of sky, a thin silvery crescent peaked from behind a cloud. The beautiful green hilly forest which took breaths away in the daylight was now only a tangle of woods, a jungle of grooves and paths to easily become lost within, at this hour.

Moutasim pulled a black knit shawl which was lying on a chair next to his and draped it around his shoulders. A blend of fresh floral scent arose from it, vanilla or lavender, or maybe both, he couldn't figure out. Raising it to his nose, he inhaled. An oasis of tranquillity penetrated deep within him, it smelt clean and innocent, a gush of sweetness. It's intoxicating, he thought and continued clicking away on his laptop.

Right at that moment, he was monitoring his sister's, Faarima's cell phone. Going through her text messages and phone calls, he tracked those numbers to make sure she only contacted with the ones he trusted, keeping an eye over her fourteen-year-old sister. He didn't want her to indulge herself into a devious life full of what he thought were nomadic people. 

Ironic for him to think that way, isn't it? That's because who else could know better than himself, he was one of those nomads, a scoundrel. He never wanted rowdies like him to even cast a shadow at Faarima, or the ones which would lead her to them.

It wasn't a hindrance for Moutasim to worm in a cell phone; emails, messages or calls. He could set his foot in anyone's personal space in the world, right through his laptop without them ever knowing, just like any other underworld hired gun could. He used his technic often, before killing a target or digging out the real deal behind an opponent's propaganda; all very useful for the 'profession' he was in. He had thought about prying into Riya's phone several times. 

On the other side, albeit ghostly, he didn't want any kind of involvement in her life, or perhaps he couldn't gather his steel-like nerves to undergo a hell of talkfest between her and her love. The thought of someone else being in her life, rather the centre of it was enough for Moutasim to tear down his egotism in bits, but there was certainly enough left for not letting her into his life, not in a million years after what she had done.

His phone vibrated, kept on the table at the front. The screen displayed 'Mom' and he smiled lazily. Swiftly answering her call, he greeted her, "Assalam o Alaikum, Mom!"

"Walikassalam, how are you?" His smile broadened at his mother's cheerful voice.

"I'm fine Mom, you tell me? All good?" He asked

"Everyone's okay here, prepping up for the wedding trip."

"Hmm. Is Dad still mad at me?" He asked anxiously.

"Apparently, yes, he'd be fine once we get there. You know him, but Moutasim why didn't you just come along with us instead of leaving a week before? Is it about Riya?" His mother asked curiously.

"Uh, why would it be about Riya, Mom. I didn't even know she'd be coming about a month before the wedding. Anyways, it doesn't make a difference when I come or go. I had to be out of that place, after that eh, jail episode. I just needed a break." He spoke the truth.

"Why don't you just stop all this nonsense, Moutasim? Your life is always at stake, also when people talk about you, I can no more tolerate it, but it's the sad truth. Why don't you think about all of us? Please quit-..." She was getting all emotional, he could hear it in her voice that she was on the verge of tears.