Caged Nightingale

31 Saara

We are driving back to Lahore and my anxiety is sky rocketing.

It didn't seem like such a bad idea when Atif had announced I should return with him, I would be staying in his home. But now as we get closer i can't help but think that perhpas we haven't thought this through. 

Atif spent the afternoon in his office with Zain and Mohsin. At 4pm he came into the library and announced that we would be leaving within the hour.

I had sat forward, grabbed his hand as he began to get up and then stopped. I wanted to get closer to leaving, I didn't want to stay here on my own, yet the idea of going was also frightening. I didn't have my passport yet. Going back to the place where people were looking for me, felt like we were tempting fate.  Instead i looked up at him, saw the steely determination in his eyes and somewhere in there reassurance too and knew I was only certain of one thing: I did trust him
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Darkness descended and I could hear  Atif, Zain and Mohsin occasionally break the silence in the 4x4. At some point, I must have fallen aleep on Atif's knee. The lights flash overhead and then there were patches of darkness. Still we moved forward. Atif's hand gliding up my back- stroking my head and occasionally resting on my shoulders. It was reassuring to have him near.  Slowly, reluctantly I drifted off.

When I awoke, it was to the sound of vehicles humming, horns blaring and motobikes reving. The humdrum of a city.  We were back in lahore.

"Mohsin is going to take you to a friend of mine.  You'll be able to rest and freshen up.  I'm going to go to work and pick up my life from Hassan.  At midday, Mohsin'll take you to my place. Keep your head down and don't let anyone in. Don't worry Mohsin will stay with you.' He leans in and takes my face in his hand and kisses me, holding my gaze for a few minutes. As he exits the 4x4 he gets into a sleek black vehical with Zain, I watch him check his phone.

Mohsin is quiet and doesn't say anything as we drive away.  A few minutes later, we enter a gated community and a minute or so after we pull up to an ornate cast iron gate. The guard at the gate speaks to mohsin, and immediatly begins to open it.  Inside there is a two story house, standing admist a lush lawn and palm trees.  There is cast iron garden furniture to the right and 2 vehicals are parked on the concrete driveway so the side of the house.

Slowly, I leave the vehical and Mohsin helps me down, understanding I'm stiff from the long drive. The front door is ornately carved in wood and I marvel at the craftsmanship, as it is thrown open, I come face to face, staring at a woman in her 50s.  She introduces herself.  'You can call me baji Asma' she says. She is imacculately dressed in a mint kaftan with heavy embriodery, full makeup and her hair in a french roll, heavy gold earings and wedges. She pulls me in and ushers Mohsin inside quickly, then shuts the door.

When we are inside she turns her full attention to me. Again I am under her scrutiny and she smiles quickly in approval before linking arms with me and taking me into a room off to the left of the hallway. Mohsin follows but she turns and whispers something to him and then points to an adjacent door. Mohsin looks over at me, to make sure I'm ok and I nod back in assurance.  The room we enter is comfortable. Plush velvet sofa, low crystal coffee table and guilded frames around the room, the windows have rich jacard curtains in a deep claret. It looks like a place of intrigue and  I can almost imagine a poker game taking place her.  Tea arrives just as we begin to sit.

'So.' she says grinning 'You are Atif's wife. Ayla' and she gives me a knowing smile.

I nod and smile. 'I'm afraid I dont know anything about you.  . .' I admit truthfully.

'Really?' she says 'that's disappointing' she grins mischeviously 'I'm Atif's. . . . . mentor' she says after a moment. 

We spend a few minutes talking and then she says suddenly  'That's nice- now why don't you tell me the truth?' Her tone is gentle and look pointed. So I do.  I tell her everything.

She looks thoughtfully out of the window whilst I'm talking, wrinkles her nose and turns to me 'Sorry, I'm going to be honest with you, that doesnt sound like the Atif I know.. . .' then 'I mean its a good thing.  The young man I know is ambitious and cunning and the man you are describing is altruism personified. They couldnt be more different.' She says matter of fact. She looks at me expectantly.

I don't know what to tell her. 'I can only tell you about the man i think I know- from what I've seen' I say and feel a little unsettled at her words. 'He told me he's different and that he's had to be. He didnt lie about that'. I dont say he is shady or unscrupilous- after all she has just claimed he is her protege of some sort. It would be rude. Instead I say 'I like Atif, because he's honest with me.'

'Are you sleeping with him?' she asks suddenly.

'yes' I reply.

'Good' she says. 'Then you do know he wont let you go till he's ready right?' There is challenge in her eyes.

I sit in shocked silence. It never occured to me that he would never fulfil his promise.

She sighs: 'Ive never known him to do anything for another person unless there is something significant and substantially beneficial in it for him.' she says matter of factly. 'So either you're about to provide him with an heir or he's in love with you.  And Atif is not the type of man who does love.'

I freeze and smile uncertainly at her. she isnt being purposefully spiteful, just honest - I realise. But the events of this weekend rush through my mind. I asked him to 'cum inside me!' I want to cringe at my foolishness. I shut my eyes in mortification.

'I'm afraid it may be neither.' I say feigning a calm I don't feel. 

She smiles knowingly and takes another sip of tea.

'I'm not sure whether to congratulate you or comiserate with you.'  she says.  'You are either the coolest woman alive or the most naive. Only time will tell which it is.'

I groan out loud and put my face in my hands. Again I have this feeling of being disconnected from the events unravelling around me.  It doesnt feel real.  But I hear Asma laugh and turn to give her a look that says I'm actually foolish enough to be both.

I few minutes more and I'm lying in a plush bed in a room that can only be described as boudioresque. In muted colours it feels indulgent and expensive. There are flowing mink velvet curtains on the guilded 4 poster bed and a thick truffle carpet.  cream and gold sented candles and varses of overflowing flowers, a host of silk pillows on the bed in every shade of cream.  A chaise lounge at the foot of the bed and decadent painted dressing table with a huge guilded mirror. It's like staying in a luxury hotel. And the sheets? Oh my life. As soon as I slide into the bed I am reminded of the rediculously frivalous bed sheets I indulge in at home. I fall into what I can only describe as a comatose state.