Chapter 88: "Reaching Out"

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First draft: July, 2018

As Salma parked her car, she was unconsciously craning her neck, hoping to see a glimpse of Zayn’s car in the lot.

He was not in the apartment they were now staying in. He was not in the campus, at his department, the gym he frequented or with Sarah. Claire had even checked with her friends, Charlyane and Lena, and contacted his lawyer, Scarlett. Niall called the police station in case he had gone there to see how the investigation was going on. An officer there confirmed that he had not visited the station, and also that he was not around the house where a forensic team was conducting their investigations. Darren also tried to help by contacting Zayn’s managers, Robert and Zayn’s agent, but no body had seen, or heard from him.

Since he had not been to her place, Salma also called Anne, just in case he had tried contacting William or Uncle Dawood – as bizarre as that idea was.

It was only when she had reached her car and was chased down by Louisa that Salma realized the answer had been just staring her in the face the whole time.

“Hey,” the junior had gasped, out of breath from having ran after her. “Do you have that FBI gal’s number?! We just figured Zayn might be with her.”

“Agent Wickfield?” Salma asked

“Yeah, her.” Louisa massaged a stich in her chest. “Niall thinks she might know since she keeps watch on him, or at least she can trace him down using some tech or something.”

“Of course! That’s a great idea!” Salma exclaimed, feeling hopeful.

“Right, so her number?”

Salma blinked.

“Oh, no, I don’t have her number,” she replied, feeling rather stupid. “I’m so sorry! I honestly don’t know her like that.”

Louisa breathed out a defeated sigh.

“Looks like Zayn’s about the only person who had direct contact with her,” the junior said, massaging her forehead. “Anyway, I got to go back. Dad was trying several of his contacts that know Zayn’s grandpa so hopefully he has tracked him down by now.”

As Louisa raced back to the hospital, it occurred to Salma. She did not have contact with Agent Wickfield, but the FBI was not the only one keeping an eye on Zayn. Muttering at herself for not thinking about it right off the bat, she quickly unlocked her phone and dialed her father.

Barely ten minutes of the Green Coats doing their thing and Salma got the lastest location of the missing person. This is how she ended up in the masjid parking lot, keeping a keen eye out for Zayn’s car. Her heart soared when she found it parked in one corner. Immensely relieved, Salma almost flew towards the building and raced in. She kicked her shoes out unceremoniously, and shot straight into the prayers area, looking left and right in search of a certain dark-haired, broken-hearted footy player.

“Hey, hey, hey!” a pair of arms waved in front of her.

Salma skidded to a halt, staring at the man in front of her wide-eyed.

“Whoa! Lady, many apologies but the sister’s section is that way,” he pointed to her right.

Salma followed his directions and stared at the solid wall of the prayer hall. Her head was swimming. Why was he asking her to headbutt the wall again?

“Like, outside, then take the stairs and you end up in the ladies area upstairs,” the man said. “This is for the guys.”

Salma closed her eyes and shook her head to clear. Of course! What was she thinking?

“I . . .” Salma rubbed her face with her hand. “I’m so sorry. I wasn’t thinking straight. I’m actually looking for someone and I just hurried in. It’s an emergency.”

“Oh,” the young guy, who Salma just now realized donned quite a thick dark beard, an Arab head gear and robes, frowned with concern.

“Can I just take a quick look in there, please,” Salma asked, getting restless as she looked past him towards the inner hall.

“Um . . . I suppose,” he said, unsure of what to do.

Salma barely let him finish and raced towards the inner hall, almost knocking into a man walking towards the shelves.

“Sorry,” Salma muttered.

“Be careful kid – hey! This is the men’s area!”

Salma ignored him as she quickly swept the inner hall with her eyes. The younger guy she was talking to earlier had intervened to explain her situation to the other man so Salma focused on doing her job.

Her heart sank when she could not see Zayn. She was so sure he would be in the hall that she felt a poisonous kind of disappointment burn holes in her insides. Dishearted, Salma was almost about to leave when she noticed someone sitting against the wall in the last row.

There!

Right at the back, hunched next to the shelf stacked with heavy volumes of Qur’an, was Zayn, his head hung low and posture drooping with the traumatic emotional load of past few days. He was sitting like a statue, his face impassive, and blankly staring at the carpet. The only traces of emotions on his features were his eyes that were raw. Salma felt her heart stab to see him so distressed. She just felt drawn to him, to pull him into a hug and shield him against all the pain he was carrying.

“Sister?”

Startled, Salma whipped around to see the same young guy standing behind her.

“Did you find who you were looking for?”

Taking in a deep breath, Salma let it out slowly and nodded.

“Yeah, he’s there.” She pointed at Zayn. “Listen, don’t disturb him, but once he’s finished, would you please let him know I’ll be waiting for him . . . you know, in the lot, in case he wants to talk about it?”

The guy eyed her questioningly but then quickly recovered and smiled.

“Of course,” he replied. “Won’t be a problem.”

“JazakAllahu Khayr.”

“BarakAllahu feeki.” He smiled.

Salma noticed a man in African robes and kufi suddenly stop on his way and turn to Salma.

“La Huwla Wa Quwatta! Lady! This is man’s area!” He said loudly, attracting the attention of quite a few other men in the main hall.

Salma quickly stepped away from the entrance of the inner hall, just in case Zayn breaks out of his mental battles to see what the commotion was about.

“Yeah, yeah, we know, we know,” the guy helping her out quickly explained. “I was just escorting her out, Akhi! No need to create a scene. . . Come on, sis!”

On the younger guy’s beckoning, Salma quickly walked away from the inner hall and towards the exit, feeling several eyes giving her amused, confused or disappointed looks all the way out.

She let out a breath once she was out in the sun.

“That was mad,” she muttered to herself. “So, so crazy.”

***

Salma rested her chin on her folded knees, scrolling through her phone. An hour was already up. She was getting a little stiff sitting on the curb for so long but she waited nonetheless. Zayn’s car was visible from where she was seated but she made it a point to say out of sight. At whatever point that he decided to come out, Salma did not want to intrude, if he wanted to be left alone. Taking in a deep breath, Salma threw a quick glance at the car parked across the lot.

A text notification alerted her. Her heart skipped a beat to see it was from Zayn.

Zayn: You followed me?

Salma bit her lower lip. Was he just asking to confirm that she was around, or was he angry about it?

Hoping it was not the later, Salma typed a reply.

Salma: I did not see you all day. Just wanted to make sure you were okay.

Hitting ‘send’, Salma released a breath, not really sure how he would respond, but surprisingly, not worried either. It was the truth. She was worried and she wanted to check up on him.

Zayn: why didn’t you just tell me you were here?

Salma relaxed upon reading his reply. It appeared to her that he was not entirely against the idea of her approaching him after he had gone M.I.A on them all day.

Salma: You did not look like you wanted to see anyone.

“So you played my guardian angel?”

Jumping in alarm, Salma toppled and lost her balance. She was spared the bruised cheek by the quick hands that grabbed her. Salma gripped the sleeves of his hoodie, unceremoniously, as Zayn straightened her again.

Salma cleared her throat, feeling blood creeping to her cheeks in embarrassment.

“T-thank you,” she said quietly, giving him a quick side glance. Her heart sank every time she was reminded of the marks his recent suffering had left on his otherwise perfect features.

“How long have you been sitting here?” he asked.

“Not long,” she lied.

“An hour seems long enough,” Zayn said.

Salma threw him a questioning look.

“There was this Arab dude inside who told me you’d been waiting for quite a while,” Zayn said, taking a seat next to her on the curb. Salma quickly pulled her legs to herself to make space for him. “I wouldn’t even have known you were here if it wasn’t for him.”

Zayn stretched an arm towards her. Salma scooted next to him. Her muscles relaxed as he wrapped an arm around her, pulling her closer. Salma flexed her shoulders before leaning in to him.

“I didn’t want to intrude,” she replied.

“And now you’re stiff,” Zayn said, kissing the side of her head. “I appreciate you, Bee.”

Enveloping her in his arms, he started massaging her stiff muscles in her neck, working his way to the painful knot between her shoulders.

Salma let out a sigh of content, involuntarily moving aside to give his soothing fingers more access to her back.

“You’re awsome!” she said happily.

Zayn laughed quietly. Salma turned to face him and slipped her arms around his torso.

“Thank you.” Salma kissed his cheek then nestled her head against his shoulder, giving him a squeeze. “I’m honestly relieved to see you’re okay.”

Salma felt Zayn’s arms tightening around her.

“Good to know, at least, the family I chose genuinely cares for me,” he replied.

Salma’s heart sank.

“They are all worried about you, Zayn,” Salma said quietly. “Niall, Claire, Darren, even Louisa . . . they did not leave a stone unturned to find you.”

Salma purposely left out any mention of his Grandpa. She was not sure how he would react to knowing the old man was asking for him.

“Yet, it had to be you who figured out where I was,” Zayn said.

“I had help,” Salma quickly replied. “They called everywhere and everyone they thought might have seen you, even the police.”

“Why would I go to the police?”

“You know, to see if they’ve had any progress with their investigation of how the fire broke out.” Salma shrugged.

“A poorly put out blunt,” Zayn said.

“What?”

“They found a blunt in Claire’s room,” Zayn replied. “It incinerated the carpet.”

Salma frowned with incredulity.

“That could not be,” she said. “Claire doesn’t smoke.”

“That’s what it was made to look like, therefore that’s what the police found,” Zayn replied.

“But the CCTV footage –“

“They say it does not prove anything,” Zayn said. “All it shows is a man entering one day and leaving the next. They even argue Claire let him in and that he is probably her supplier.”

“Rubbish!” Salma cried, straightening up to see his face. “Everyone in the house was drugged, a stranger sneaked into the house, and fire started minutes after he left! How can they pin that on Claire smoking weed?!”

“It’s obvious, isn’t it?” Zayn said quietly. “Someone wants to deliver a threat without being traced.”

Salma heart seemed to stop.

“Who?” she asked, dreading the answer.

Zayn stared at the ground.

“I don’t know,” he said quietly. “I can only guess.”

Salma’s heartbeat paced up as she stared at the concrete floor of the parking lot. Who did he suspect? Was it one of his enemies? Derek? The X-RAW? Agent Wickfield? . . . Or hers? What if it was Toryal behind that fire? A shiver raked her spine. Was Zayn’s family being targeted for her?

“Do you think the same person is also the one who called your Grandpa to come to Blue Riverdale?” Salma asked.

“Probably,” Zayn replied.

The two settled into a heavy silence that weighed down on them. This was the first time Salma had mentioned his Grandpa. Whoever put the house on fire, also knew he would not want his Grandpa to know. They probably knew of his weak heart and were betting on the old man getting knocked out. Salma wondered if it meant they also knew of Stephen Walter’s secret. Could it be that they meant to target Zayn by making sure he got the recording of his Grandparents admitting to the truth about his birth?

Salma doubted Toryal would know about something like this. That imbecile focused his energies more on tormenting her, than the tools around her that he used to inflict that torture. This appeared like something Derek or Alex would do to get back to him. Someone Zayn knew personally for a very long time. Agent Wickfield seemed like someone who might have found out about Zayn’s parentage but Salma could not believe Alex would be so cruel so she figured it was Derek. Maybe he somehow found out from her? His fiancée was the agent’s younger sister, after all.

Lenny.

Salma’s lips parted as it occurred to her. She was definitely someone who wanted to see Zayn’s happiness burn. Maybe it was not the agent who knew. The more Salma thought about it, the more it made sense. Perhaps Grandpa Steve, himself, had told her his deepest secret about Zayn, like he had told Salma, but maybe she never had the recording and so she had to get Grandpa Steve out of the way long enough for the mail to reach Zayn.

Could it be her revenge against him for moving on without her? Is that why Zayn did not want to say who he suspected for that fire?

Salma glanced at the dark haired man sitting beside her, quietly burning in his suffering alone. She rested her head back on his shoulder and hugged him closer again. She wished she knew a way to end his confusion and ease his pain. He did not deserve to be so miserable and lonely.

Zayn turned his head so his chin rested atop her forehead.

“So he’s awake?” he asked quietly.

Salma knew Zayn meant his grandfather even if he did not clearly say so. She figured he must have gotten the hundreds of messages and voicemail everyone was bombarding him with all day, the moment he had turned his phone back on to contact Salma.

“He’s not doing well, Zayn,” Salma replied. “He was asking about you. They had to sedate him.”

Zayn did not reply but Salma could feel his chest constricting. She figured he was struggling against the pain and that it was getting unendurable for him. Salma rubbed her hands against his back comfortingly. Zayn let out a shaky breath.

“You should talk to him about it,” she suggested gently.

Salma was met with more silence. She let him be after that. There was only one way for him to heal and that was to address the matter with his family, but Salma knew there was no forcing him. He would do it when he was ready. Only problem was, Salma feared he would be too late if he waited too long and then he would regret it.

“I don’t know what to say to him,” Zayn whispered finally. “I just . . .”

He rested his head atop hers, shutting his eyes against the pressure in his chest. He squeezed her closer as if holding onto her to keep himself from breaking apart.

“I feel hurt,” he continued in a broken voice, relaxing his arms around her, “betrayed. All my life has been a lie! My parents were a lie, my family was a lie, my home was lie . . . It hurts so much. To know that the people that I loved as my family are not my family! It’s --”

His voice cracked.

Salma felt her throat clog when she felt him put his cheek atop her head, facing away from the lot. Her heart broke to realize he was probably fighting back tears.

“I wish they had told me earlier, like they did with Claire,” Zayn said. “I don’t even know if they ever truly loved me. It makes me feel like they only kept me around to pretend they never turned their daughter out; to ease their guilty conscience. As if, telling me would be them admitting to themselves I was not who they wanted me to be. Like it would break that pretense. It - it just hurts so bad! I don’t know what to think anymore!”

Salma bit her lip to hold back a sob. She could feel his pain and it was traumatizing. The anguish was radiating off of him in waves, piercing her right through her heart. She just held him, hoping he would know she was there for him.

“I’m sorry,” she cried, “You don’t deserve to go through this.”

Salma reached up to grab his face. She moved away from him.

“I can’t even imagine what it’s like for you right now,” she said, hating to see that his eyes were raw again. “I just want you to ask yourself; have your grandparents, ever in your life, since they took you in, up until you found out, given you any reason to believe, your grandpa or your grandma did not truly love you?”

Salma saw Zayn meet her gaze, his eyes welling up with tears again. He blinked rapidly and looked away but did not say anything.

“What they did was inexcusable, but is it wise to judge everything you guys have shared, the love you’ve had for each, the life and warmth you have experienced together, as a lie because of this?”

Salma could see Zayn struggling against breaking up completely. He looked anguished, lost, frustrated and disturbed. Salma stroke his face with her thumb, making him turn his gaze back to her again.

“It’s up to you, but I think you should talk to your grandpa,” Salma said gently. “You owe to yourself to hear him out . . . if for nothing else, than at least to get a closure.”

Zayn searched her eyes, then took in a deep breath and released it slowly. He reached for her hand against his face, covering it with his. Then turned to kiss her palm. Salma felt a tickling shiver race up her arm. She suppressed a shudder.

“I will,” he promised, pressing his lips to her palm again.

“You will?” Salma asked, feeling a smile stretch on her lip. She pulled her hand free from his and threw her arms around his neck. “Oh, Zayn!”

Zayn almost smiled. He brought his arms around her waist, hugging her back, letting her relief seep through him and chase away some of the congestion in his chest.

“I will,” he repeated. “You’re right. . .I owe it to myself to hear him out.”

Author's Note:

A bit of a relief after the stress of several chapters. Zayn's going to see his old man, finally!

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Lots of love

J.