Chapter 68: "Misdirected"

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Salma adjusted the items in her hands, and freed one to knock on the door.

"Come in!" said a sharp voice that was Sarah's.

Salma entered.

"One thinks you would ask who it is before allowing them to enter," Salma said as she closed the door behind her.

Sarah raised her head from her pillow, eyeing the food in Salma's hands.

"I knew it was you," she said in a distracted sort of way, then frowned. "You went grocery shopping or something?"

"You've been avoiding me, so I figured you're either stressed about something, or –"

"—I had exams –"

"—actually had exams," Salma finished. "Either ways, I thought I'd get you some snacks and comfort food." Salma smiled at her, raising the bags. "I just got onion soup delivered from Cody's –"

"I actually love you!" Sarah shot up and reached for the paper bag with the hot container in it. "Like, not just because you're good at detecting a person's cravings," she said as she pulled out the soup and dug for some spoons in the bag. "But yeah." she pointed at her with the spoon. "Mostly because you're good at detecting a person's cravings."

"I feel valued." Salma sighed, dumping a mix of chocolate, fruit juices and crisps on her table.

"You're welcome," Sarah managed to puff out the words as she burnt her tongue with the soup.

Salma stuffed her hands in her abaya pockets.

"So, I'm going to ask you something and then I'm going to leave," Salma said simply.

"Hmm?" Sarah nodded, eating another spoon filled with molten cheese and soup, after blowing on it this time.

"Are you okay?"

Sarah froze, spoon still in her mouth. She shrugged.

"I've noticed you seemed worried and distracted – I know, exams!" Salma added, when she noticed Sarah swallowing quickly to argue, "but it started way before your exams. And Zayn noticed too."

A strange silence followed her last words. The casual mention of Zayn from Salma was odd. Sarah pursed her lip.

"You've also been avoiding company," Salma continued, trying to brush over the awkwardness. "You can say no if you don't want to share, I respect that, but I feel like I should to ask, is something the matter?"

Sarah drew in a deep breath, and let it out slowly. She twisted the spoon in her hands, thinking. Salma felt her heart sink. On a normal day, Sarah would have jumped at the opportunity to tease Salma for gossiping with Zayn about her, as a diversion tactic.

"It's my dad," Sarah said quietly.

Salma felt her chest congest. She did not expect Sarah to actually open up to her. And now that she was doing so, Salma worried it was something too painful for her to keep in any longer.

"Is he unwell?" she asked softly.

Sarah put the spoon down then nodded.

"Sarah, I'm so sorry," Salma walked towards her and sat on the edge of her bed. "What happened? Why didn't you tell me?"

Sarah smiled sadly.

"It's not like you can do anything about it." She laughed dryly. "He's fine. Just down at the moment, but I worried, anyway."

"It's only natural," Salma muttered. "Are you going to go home to take care of him?"

Sarah sighed, tugging a stray strand of hair behind her ear.

"Nope."

Salma was surprised but did not question it.

"He didn't tell mum," Sarah explained. "If I show out of blue, mum finds out and then she gets ill and then me and my sisters just get to use twice the amount of positivity to pull them out of their cycle of depressive mourning."

Salma took a brief instant to try to understand what she was saying, but realizing she did not know enough to understand what was going on, she just nodded. Sarah, however, caught on to her moment of confusion.

"My dad is suffering from clinical depression," she explained. "It comes and goes. Mum too. That's why he tries to paint a brave face around her. Good thing he trusts me to be his outlet."

"That's tough," Salma said earnestly. "I'm sorry."

"Yeah it drains you a bit, but I'd want to be able to do anything to put that smile back on his face."

"Do you want to share what happened?" Salma asked tentatively. As uncharacteristic as it was of her to ask, Salma felt like Sarah should be asked. One, because she was her friend and they were frank enough for Sarah to say 'no' and for Salma to understand, and two, because Salma figured Sarah was not the kind of person to open up to many people, and if she had opened up to Salma, she probably wanted to talk about it.

Sarah smiled again. It was a sad smile but Salma could tell she appreciated her asking.

"You know, my dad's an investigative journalist, right?" she began. "Many years ago, he was putting together a story about a ring of child-kidnappers after a kid was kidnapped in the neighborhood. The story spun a storm. It exposed a lot of departments for their incompetency and non-cooperative behavior, triggering many campaigns, petitions and demonstrations. The kid was recovered but the piece had already wrecked a havoc in several important offices. Many reforms were introduced in police response to a missing child, the agencies methods of tracing missing children and several laws were passed to restrict the ease with which child-traffickers were able to take kids in and out of the state, and country.

"Also, several departments got in touch with dad to work together and track down a ring that was known was trafficking children to MENA region. They broke through the local cell of the ring, caught the kidnappers and rescued around two dozen kids. It was a moment of triumph but Dad paid a heavy price." Sarah shrugged, turning back to her soup. She drew in a deep, shaky breath. "He can't shake it away, the pain and the trauma . . . It comes back to him, every now and then."

Salma did not know what to say once Sarah finished. She felt guilty that in all the time she had known and confided in Sarah about her problems and her family issues, never once had she even imagined her friend's sufferings at her home.

"Every time he finds out about a child getting kidnapped, actually." Sarah sighed, eyeing the soup miserably.

Salma felt her hear stab, knowing what was coming.

"A child was kidnapped from the neighborhood a month ago. He was recovered within a week but it was more than enough for dad to be engulfed by his old demons."

"How's he holding up now?" Salma asked quietly, feeling sad for her father, but relieved that the kid was found.

"He'll get better." Sarah pulled one corner of her mouth in an attempt to smile. "He's a fighter!"

"Like daughter, like father?" Salma joked lightly.

"The other way around actually." Sarah laughed a little. "Anyway, tell me something to distract me. My appetite just vanished and I feel like crying because the soup is getting wasted."

Salma blinked as Sarah turned to her expectantly. Her mind went completely blank.

"Um, okay let me think." She frowned as she went back a few days in her head to find out something interesting to talk about.

Her problem with Zayn's hugs and how they winded her, sprung to mind. That seemed like something Sarah would find funny and hopefully would lighten her mood.

Nah! Salma dismissed it. Too embarrassing.

Her meeting with Jason, Zayn and Louisa in the café –

Nope! That's distressing

"I can't believe you have nothing to say!" Sarah interrupted her thoughts.

"I went on a date with Zayn," Salma blurted out the next that popped up in her mind, "and I told him I'm the Guardian of the Zamarud, and then I told my dad that I told Zayn that I'm the Guardian of the Zamarud."

Once more, Sarah just stuck the spoon in her mouth and looked at her, wide-eyed. She swallowed quickly.

"What did you do?!" she cried.

"I went on a date with Zayn."

"Which you've been doing for a while now," she prompted.

"Yes, but it was our first one," Salma said.

Sarah's eyes remained wide, but she blinked to express her inability to understand the absolute nonsense Salma was saying.

Salma scratched her temple.

"This was the first one," she said. "He put in more effort and like, asked me out properly first. Flowers and all."

Sarah closed her eyes and shook her head, turning back to the soup. Salma thought she heard 'dysfunctional pair'

"Excuse me?"

"So you got seduced and told him your deepest, darkest secrets?" Sarah asked with a casual spoonful of the soup.

"No, stop getting ahead of yourself!" Salma denied. "He put in a lot of the effort and it was a beautiful setting but I wasn't . . ." She turned red. "I wasn't tricked into giving away any information."

Sarah bit back a smile.

"It's a shame Onion soup doesn't require tomatoes," she said, studying the soup in her spoon before eating it.

Salma frowned at the contents of the bowl.

"Did you get a tomato in it, or do you like tomatoes with your soup?" she asked, skeptical of her friend's taste.

Sarah suppressed a laugh under the cover of her mouth being too full to say anything.

"He definitely didn't trick you," she said in a strained voice.

"He didn't," Salma said, not sure what the joke was. "What's so funny?"

Sarah shook her head.

"Nothing." She smiled at her. "You're sweet and I'm a tad messed up in the best. Also the soup's heavenly. My brain malfunctioned." She picked up the bowl. "So, back to the story, you ended up trusting him with your secrets."

Salma sighed, nodding.

"I figured I might as well tell him and see if he can be trusted." Salma pursed her lips. "Don't know if I played smart with this move, or stupid."

Sarah's expressions turned serious.

"I thought you told him because you trusted him, not because you wanted to see if you trusted him," she asked, frowning.

"Well." Salma shrugged. "It's kinda both, isn't it?"

Sarah ate in silence, then nodded.

"True," she agreed. "It isn't 'either/or', it's 'and'."

"I do trust him more now," Salma said after a while. "I think," she added as an after-thought.

Sarah nodded again.

"Good to know," she said.

When a pin-drop silence followed, Sarah stopped scratching cheesy-soupy remnants off the edge of the empty bowl to look up. Salma was looking at her expectantly, tapping her index fingers together.

"So, I might need your help," she requested meekly. "Just a little?"

***

Salma took a step back when another pair of curious eyes came out of the kitchen and gave her an incredulous look.

"Claire? I couldn't --"

"Coming!" Claire quickly told the man, before grabbing Salma's arm, pushing her towards the stairs. "Why don't you go wait in my room? I'll get back to you in a sec."

Salma turned to her, confused. Claire smiled apologetically.

"It's the first door on the landing," she said as she hurried to her company. "Oh, and don't sit on the bed!"

Salma watched as Claire disappeared after the man who had appeared out of the kitchen. She shut her mouth close and looked around. Three guys were seated on the couches. Niall and Zayn being a big no-show. Apparently the boys had planned a game night with their friends. And according to Claire, they were on their way home.

Salma figured she had two options. Go up, and wait in Claire's room till Zayn got back home. Or, leave, and try to talk to Zayn some other time. Salma figured the second option was now at the risk of losing the surprise factor, considering Claire would mention her visit at their place to Zayn.

"Hey there!"

Salma snapped out of her mental debate, to see one of the guys waving at her from the couches.

"Did Niall stand you up to his own gaming night too?" He smiled pleasantly. "You can come over and join us, if you wish. He says he'll be back in five."

Salma smiled and tightened her grasp around the strap of her bag.

"Oh no. No, I'm not here for gaming," Salma said.

"I see." The guy nodded. "Are you one of Claire's friends?"

"I'm Zayn's fiancé," Salma replied.

The dude's smile slipped. She saw all three of the boys freeze and exchange a look. Salma was not sure if it was the shock of Zayn having tied a knot to a freaking batman, or the fact that they were trying to socialize with the beasts' lady.

"Oh," he finally breathed.

"I have to go up there." Salma jerked her head upstairs. "You guys have fun."

"Sure," he muttered, still coming to terms with the fact that she claimed to be Zayn's fiancé. "Thanks . . ."

Nodding at them, Salma started going upstairs. She could feel three pairs of stunned eyes following after her all the way, till she disappeared around the bend in the staircase.

Oh well, Salma rolled her eyes. What's new?

She came to a halt at the landing in front of the first door. She was quite sure the last time she had visited, she had helped a distressed Claire into her room, and that was the second door down the hall, not the first to her left.

It was more than a year ago, Salma figured. Perhaps she had forgotten, or Claire had changed rooms. Reaching for the door knob, she took in a deep breath and twisted it. Back then, Zayn had come out of this particular room when she was about to sneak out. Salma hoped she did not end up running into him prematurely, once again.

Salma opened the door a creak and peeked in. The room was definitely different from what she recalled. The bed here was huge compared to Claire's smaller one. However, it was made to perfection which made Salma doubt it was any man's job. She stepped into the room and closed the door behind her. Unfamiliar though it was, it had a strange sense of homely warmth. It was hard to put a finger on it, but the room was also beautifully disorganized. The dresser and side tables were mostly littered with papers and pads in all colors, shapes and sizes. Salma stood in the middle of the room awkwardly. She tried to stop her eyes wandering too much. It was Claire's room and Salma felt like invading her privacy just by being there. After a moment of thought, she walked towards the bed and took a seat on the edge, since the only chair – a round sofa chair – was taken up by a bag and laptop.

Stop snooping around, she reminded herself.

I was not snooping around! Salma turned her eyes to the walls. What else can I do, but look around?

A flash of bright light caught her attention. Salma turned to it. Her eyes widened to see this massive, beautiful abstract covering the wall in front of the bed. Two streaks of laser were shooting over the surface making random lines – one short, the other slightly longer. Salma started admiring the art, trying to make sense of it. She felt like she could do that without invading Claire's privacy. A third streak of laser flashed around the painting at regular intervals. Mesmerized, Salma walked towards the painting. She could make out numbers. It was only when she figured at least five numbers did she realize, the huge artwork was a clock and the three streaks of laser were basically the arms of the clock. Mind-blown by the creativity of the artist, Salma looked at it more closely when she made out a football and paint palette in the swirls of colors.

It hit her.

This was Zayn's piece.

A long, impressed moment of wonder passed, before the more intelligent part of her brain finally snapped. It was not just Zayn's piece.

This was most probably his room!

As if struck by a lightening, Salma turned her attention back to the room; to the drawing pads and sketch books on the tables, to the brushes and stationary littering the room. Especially stationary. There was a lot of stationary; all kinds of pens, sharpies and pencils. She turned to the carpet. It was super clean but almost every corner had its own neat pile of things, oddly adding to the overall decorum. A board and a stand with a basket full of cans and colors at one end, a football with shin pads and practice cones at the other. Now that she was not brain-dead, she also noticed the well-pressed masculine shirts hanging by their hangers, to the handle of the closet. Everything in the room just screamed of the artistic jock that he was. The only thing out of place was the well-made bed, and Salma realized it was quite stupid of her to think it could not be a man's bed, just because it did not look like it was hit by a tornado.

Realizing she was just foolishly sitting in wait for Claire in Zayn's room, Salma made a beeline towards the foot of the bed and grabbed her bag. In her haste to turn around and make a run for it, her water bottle slipped out of the side pocket and rolled over under the sofa-chair near the closet.

"For heaven's sake!" Salma hissed, diving after the bottle.

She heard a handle turning. Her hand paused around the bottle and her muscles tense up. The creak of the door opening made her jolt back to her feet. Startled by the idea of Zayn catching her in his room, Salma almost knocked into the door of the closet that was standing firm in her way.

A moment's confusion of how the closet was opened without anyone seeing her first, was soon replaced by a brain-freeze of Zayn stepping out of it and hurrying towards the basket of paint cans at the other end of the room. He was also not wearing any shirt.

Feeling her cheeks heat, Salma quickly turned to the apple green carpet, blinking rapidly as if that would rid her retinas of the image that was burned onto her mind now. A small voice in her head, the part that had managed to survive the onslaught of Zayn's completely unnecessary shirtless existence around her at the moment, yelled at her to take a step back, to better allow the door to obscure her from his direct line of vision, once he turned around.

Zayn stood up and turned around. Salma's breath turned to a giant ice-cube and got stuck in her throat. He shook one of the cans as he read whatever interesting was written on the other. He halted by his bed. Salma felt her muscles tug painfully with tension. Zayn, however, frowned at something on his mattress. He Seemed to get increasingly annoyed, and thankfully turned his back on her. Salma barely registered the temporary respite as she watched him dig for his phone in his pant's pocket. He called someone.

"Brownie!" He fumed. "Did someone get into my room?!"

Oh no! Salma's soul bade her goodbye.

"No, someone has been here and they put their backside on my bed!"

Salma slapped a hand over her mouth and swallowed up a squeal. Out of nowhere, she recalled Claire quite specifically telling her to not sit on the bed.

Dang! Dang, Dang, Dang!

"I don't know, alright! You ask your mates if they've been snooping around –"

Zayn's voice suddenly dried out as he turned around to see Salma standing next to the closet, watching him from where she stood, like a deer caught in the headlights; eyes wide, hand clasped to the mouth and holding a water bottle in a death grip.

Zayn blinked, thinking he was hallucinating. When the figure did not move, he breathed out a short breath, not sure what to make of her just standing there, absolutely stunned.

"Bee?"

Author's note:

What the heck just happened? 😂 Looks like our girl got fooled into holing up with Za man by the schemer! 😱 💀. Poor thing! 😭

Find out what happens next, in the next chapter 😂

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Lots of Love

J.