He irritated her, but she was stuck with the new boss; For him, she was just his secretary and no one important.
But everything changed one stormy night. Maaz Nawab Ali, owner of Paris's posh Five-star hotel and Anaya Hussain his secretary landed up...
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Anaya rang the doorbell; she held the sling of her handbag and fidgeted on her toes as she stood in front of a cream painted door. Soon, the door opened and Sheeraz peeped from behind the half-open door.
'Anaya, come in.' He opened the door and took a step aside. She entered the house looked around. It was a small studio apartment with a living room attached to the open kitchen, Lifesize French window facing the double sofa and a recliner chair.
'It has been a while since we met, eh.' Sheeraz's voice made her look at his direction. He was in the kitchen and just put the kettle on the stove. He smiled at her and she smiled back clenching her fingers tightly. He asked to take a seat at the breakfast table. She nodded, walked up to the table, placed her handbag and neatly sat on the high raised chair. The table had a clear view of the kitchen. She looked at Sheeraz's back and frowned noticing he had worn an apron. An apron, on a typical patriarchal Indian man. This made her smile. The sudden whistle of the kettle got her off guard and she nearly fell from her chair. Quickly, she straightened in her seat.
Sheeraz hummed to himself as he did something in the kitchen. Anaya was surprised to see this side of him. She had thought he was boring, but he seemed to have changed or perhaps this was a hidden talent in him.
A few minutes later, Sheeraz walked towards her with a sandwich and two cups of tea on a tray. Anaya shifted as he sat opposite her. They exchanged smiles as he passed a cup.
'It is so strange,' – Anaya began as she picked up her teacup, - 'We were engaged and about to get married,' – Sheeraz's smile faded, - 'but not even once did we talk to each other neither we met in private to discuss our future.' She said.
Sheeraz scoffed sadly looking down at his cup, - 'If we did,' – he looked at her, - 'then things would have been different.' He noticed Anaya retract in her seat. He took a sip of his tea and muttered something about less sugar. She watched him pick up a sugar cube and drop it into his cup.
'Don't worry.' -He looked at her, - 'I wanted to talk to you.' He folded his arms on the table, - 'I debated a lot and I have decided that, that I don't want to marry you.' He said.
Anaya breathes a sigh relief. She clenched the cup tightly and spoke without looking at him, - 'You said what I wanted to say.' – she looked at him, - 'I don't want to divorce Maaz. I love him.' She noticed him stiffened. Anaya sighed, - 'I want you to talk to my father. He isn't ready to back down. He is adamant that we marry.' She said seriously. Sheeraz pressed his lips tightly while gazing into his cup.
Slowly, he looked up, - 'I spoke to my parents, Anaya. And they are ready to break this—alliance if we can call it that. If you want me to talk to your parents, then I will.' He assured her. Anaya relaxed in her seat.
She took a sip of her tea and looked outside the French window. Deep dark clouds covered the sky dimming the city in the mid-afternoon. She looked back at Sheeraz, - 'why is Dad so adamant on getting us married?' She shrugged.
