Caged Nightingale

27- Saara

He's was solid in his youth but i notice now that he's thickened more around the middle. Stockier. He's greying and i can see his hair line has started to recede. His skin has that greying undertone that you get from eating unhealthily. But the worst thing by far is his smile, its cruel and reminds me of tiger who thinks he's caught his prey. He's still arrogant. Now he's got a bit of power he wont think twice before abusing it. I think about how ironic it is that i should meet two people who are so similar in the same evening. The judge's wife and Qadir. They're like mirror images of each other.
I try to feign some sort of calm, but my heart is racing from fear. Qadir is like a wolf -if he senses fear, he'll press his advantage. He was unpleasant 6 years ago and i imagine the power has only made him worse.
As calmly as possible, i take a seat in one of the arm chairs, never taking my eyes off him. I can see acne spots around his hair line and jaw and feel sick, his skin is glistening from the heat.
He circles around my chair taking the seat directly opposite me, not even bothering to acknowledge Atif. His behaviour is offensive and i feel myself bristle.
He laughs silently, shakes his head and gestures to Ali who seems to realise at the exact same point as Atif that something is very wrong with Qadir. 'See i didnt believe it when i heard about what happened to you' he narrows his eyes and looks at my face in disbelief. 'Couldn't believe it really. I kept asking Ali "saara? our Saara?"' He's talking animatedly but i know its a veiled accusation. I keep my face as composed as possible. Like i am unaffected. Slowly, i sit back to show him I'm relaxed, but my mouth is dry. ' Then he tells me about this guy.' He points to Atif without bothering to even look at him, who is stood next to Ali, both of them behind me to the left. 'Do you even know who he is?' He asks and there is anger now in his voice. 'A scumbag, lowlife, a gangster!' He pauses for effect as if expecting me to gasp or look ashamed.
Again i ignore his words. I know the truth. Atif moves around and takes the seat beside me. I turn to look at him. He looks bored. Doesn't bother to look upset or outraged at the insult. In that moment i feel so proud of him, his calm gives me strength. I give Qadir a cool level look and sigh.
' do you even know what they say about this place.' He frowns with disgust as he looks around. 'Its covered with cameras-' then he stops and looks at me with incredulity 'are you sleeping with him? Are you whoring yourself out to this piece of shit?!'
I know i should be angry. Furious. But instead i feel a calm. Like a revelation, I feel liberated. I realise I dont actually care what anyone thinks of me. His words dont affect me at all because I couldn't care less what he thinks. Looks like the pendulum has swung the opposite way completely. At one time everything would have mattered, each silent insinuation. Now? I am beyond reproach.
'You went from Asim to that!' He points again to Atif.
What he means is 'i cant believe you went from Asim to him and not me.' The thought of his sweaty carcass leaning in makes me want to be sick. Deliberately, very slowly, i let my gaze roam over him to show him I'm noticing how he's changed. His thinning greasy hair, thick neck, bulging waist, then back to his face which is more swollen now. He may be wearing an expensive suit and a look of control and arrogance. But I didnt like him 6 years ago and I certainly don't like him now. He represents everything Asim never was: self entitled, rude and worst of all possessive over everything including things that were never his. Qadir is the eldest of all siblings, has been bought up to believe the world and everything in it is his for the taking. What a shock it must have been when i came along and my parents were willing to agree to a betrothal to Asim and Asim alone. To by pass the eldest and go for the son who had already been blessed with staggeringly good looks and a matching sweet nature. How it must have irked him then to have to face the truth that Asim, in every respect was a better man.
He sees my scrutiny and holds his nerve, remaining stock still- he's almost as good as me. Perhaps the younger me would have been intimidated, but the new me, the one that has faced loss knows now what is important. I wont be a slave to anyone. Ever. The old me would have been more concerned with reputation and respectability, but the new me knows that decency doesn't come from having a good family name- just looking at Qadir is proof of that. How could two brothers be so different? Yes he may think he is from a better breed that Atif, but that doesn't mean he actually is. I'm not a complete fool, I'm sure there must be some very dark places in Atif, you don't just become a very very rich man without getting your hands dirty. He's not lied to me about that. But he is honest and in a strange way I feel he is instinctually reliable.
Atif's calm radiates strength to me. And i realise suddenly that in this moment we are more similar than different. Sitting here like this together we present a more united front.

If Qadir thinks he can bully his way through this like everything else. He's in for a shock. With us sat side by side like this, I feel beyond Qadir's reach. He's come to take me, I know that. But I'd rather get into bed with the devil himself than be taken by this demon. In fact, I know Id rather put a bullet in my own head than be taken by him anywhere. He's a sadist and there is a perverse hunger in him that I know is ready to punish me for my insolence. He can try.
Qadir is still talking. He was really good at bossing Asim about and Asim had let him because he was his older bother. Ignoring his jibes and taunting comments. Despite everything he didn't want to break his ties of kinship, which meant more to him than friction or being right.

Everyone had known about Qadir's jealousy. It had been toxic. Yet they all ignored it, tolerated it, anything but address it. In the five years we had been married, it was Asim's only flaw. He never stood up to his brother. It didn't matter as much once we moved out, but family occasions were always strained and tense.

The authoritative tone continues, but Qadir misses one key thing. He might as well be talking to a brick wall. Like always, he sees what he wants to see and doesn't read the room. We sit there like two insolent teenagers half sneering at him, zoning out his words '-you're gonna come back with me and I'm going to take care of everything-'
' -i think you're mistaken' i say slowly enunciating each word carefully, cutting him off. ' my name's Ayla, this is my husband. You may have mistaken me for someone else. There's no Saara here.' I say in a sanguine tone. I keep my face as composed as possible and turn to Atif who sits with the relaxed ease of someone who has a winning hand and knows it. He removes an invisible speck of dust from his leg trouser to illustrate how non-pulsed he is by Qadir's behaviour and then turns his steady gaze to him and I see the undertones of a smile there. Its not even a challenge. I know then he is giving Qadir the chance to walk out of here alive.

I stand and turn to Ali who is shocked and stunned by the conversation, I walk straight past him, without a backwards glance, too annoyed to say anything. Atif however stands and places his arm around Ali's shoulders and begins to walk him out of the room in a way that suggests he is about to explain something very important to him, that he missed. Mohsin and Zain are stood next to the door as I leave. They move into the room as I hear Atif and Ali leave behind me, Atif speaking in hushed tones. I don't look back to see how it will end.