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"Oh, darling. You can't fix yourself by breaking someone else."
Every young woman wants to marry Aryan Sheikh, the young, handsome Prince and a self-made businessman. His eyes are set on Yasmin Omer, the girl who has re...
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Mediterranean Sea – 8th November 2015
OPEN TO THE SKY of starless night, yellow lights from street lamps and outdoor eateries reflected on the photographic harbor at certain places. The restaurants and bars that were once Venetian dwellings have already shut their doors. Drayne, the adjacent vintage castle stood guard over the yacht yard and the rest bathed in dark blue creating a dazzling night aesthetic.
Malika has been here once with her brother. After witnessing the crowd he hanged around, she preferred not to be involved.
"Where are we supposed to search for this Alexander guy?" Zaeem asked, wiping sheen of sweat off his forehead.
"If Grandpa Clint did not give us his address, it means that his name is written on his yacht. We just have to find it."
Walking along the outline of the harbor and on the jetties, they both looked for a specific boat in the multitude masts of a mixture of traditional boats, fishing boats, modern, sleek and luxurious vessels as the normal azure-blue Mediterranean appeared to be a mysterious body of water in the background.
The darkness brought a paramount nature to the fore where men seeking for dominance and power wandered. While moving they spotted a few of such men and college students partying loud on a catamaran. Zaeem kept a low profile as he no longer had his cap and glasses. The air cooled down and the crickets sung rising goosebumps on his arm.
"Are you okay?" Malika asked upon noticing a slight change in his behavior.
"We should hurry up, walk faster."
She did not say anything despite panting and covered in sweats. All the yachts appeared the same: white, shiny and luxurious. Stopping dead in her tracks, Malika grasped his bicep.
"Over there"
She head motioned for Zaeem. The name Alexander painted in black or dark blue in a large Broadway font stood out.
"Are you as confused as me blondie?"
"I would yell at you for calling me blondie but I'm at a loss of word too."
Stepping on the deck, Malika knocked on a glassy sliding door calling out the name of the owner. In less than ten seconds an old man attired in knee length khaki shorts and sketched avocado button up shirt answered the door. His arms covered in tattoos of machine guns and cobras chilled her veins.
"Zaeem and Malika, I've been expecting you," he cheered giving Zaeem pats on the back. "Clint fed me about your little crisis. Make yourself comfortable, I'll sail for Alanya right now. We'll reach around dawn."
And that's why we should not judge a book by its cover.
"Thank you very much for helping us out," said Zaeem.
