All of My Heart

by Sara Naveed

  ‘Yes?’ she asked.

  ‘Salaam, Aunty. I’m Rehaan. I’m Zynah’s friend.’

  ‘Ohhh. You’re Rehaan! Zynah has spoken a lot about you!’ she said and patted me on my shoulder. I tried to look around for Zynah but there were no signs of her.

  ‘I’m happy to meet you finally,’ she said, smiling.

  ‘Me too, Aunty. Is Zynah here?’

  ‘Why weren’t you at the wedding?’ she asked, interrupting me.

  Her words felt like a punch in the face.

  ‘Wedding?’ I said, choking back tears.

  ‘Yes, Zynah’s wedding ceremony last week. Why weren’t you there? All of her friends were there, except you.’

  A buzz in my ears muted the rest of her words. Someone had hit pause and time seemed to have come to a standstill. My heart sank because I realized I’d lost Zynah as a friend too.

  Present Day

  November

  London, UK

  Tears formed a pool at the edge of my eyelids. Something had brought back the memories from the night Zynah’s mother told me of her wedding. Other flashbacks followed and I did not realize that we had reached her location. I slowed down the car as we neared the place where the support group met. I did not know why she was going there. I saw her in the rear-view mirror as she wiped her tears, tucked her hair behind her ears and sniffed. She placed a ten-pound note next to her on the back seat, opened the door and stepped outside, without looking back at me. She had not even bothered to ask me the fare. I was too bewildered to react. However, I did not want to end this chance meeting. I disembarked quickly and followed her to the main entrance of the support group centre. I walked through the glass door, scanning the place. A small group of people had gathered in the main hall, sitting on chairs set in a circle. Zynah was sitting on one of the chairs, her expression blank.

  Why is she here? I thought.

  I slowly tiptoed towards the hall when someone tapped on my shoulder.

  ‘Excuse me, sir?’ said a young lady, perhaps in her early twenties. ‘Have you registered to attend this session?’

  At first, I thought of concocting a story but decided against it since I might land in trouble. This was London and I could not afford to be kicked out for fooling around.

  ‘No, I’m not. But I would like to register for it,’ I told her, nodding.

  ‘I’m sorry, sir, but the registrations have closed. You can join another session next week.’

  Damn. Why? I thought.

  ‘All right, but can you please tell me what this session is for?’ I asked her.

  ‘Today’s session is to discuss anxiety and depression and how to fight against it,’ she told me in a mechanical voice.

  I weighed her response and turned around to look at Zynah sitting in the circle.

  Why was she depressed or anxious? I thought.

  Heading back towards the parking lot, I decided to wait for her until she came out.

  Leaning against my car, I kept my eyes on the glass door at the entrance. I could have spoken to her when she was in the car but her sadness had stopped me. Soon afterwards, Zynah came out, looking at her cell phone. Was she booking a ride through the Uber app? Afraid that she might book another car instead of mine, I hurried over to her.

  ‘Need a ride?’ I asked, huffing. I was standing only a few inches from her.

  She looked at me briefly when she heard my voice and turned to look back at her phone screen. After a few seconds, she looked at me again, squinting her eyes.

  ‘Rehaan?’ she asked; her eyes widened when she recognized me.

  I nodded at her exuberantly as tears pricked my eyes. It had been a long time since I had seen her, let alone from this close. Her eyes were sunk, her cheeks hollow. I could barely see the thin layer of make-up on her face.

  ‘Oh my God . . .’ she gasped. ‘It’s been so long’

  ‘Three years,’ I told her, my eyes not leaving hers.

  ‘Yes, it’s been three years,’ she agreed.

  ‘We . . . uh . . . actually met two hours ago . . . in my car back there,’ I signalled towards my car parked on the sideway as she followed my stare.

  ‘What?’ she said, looking confused.

  ‘I drove you here. I drive part-time, mostly on weekends.’

  ‘Really? I didn’t know you’d take the nickname ‘Captain’ so seriously!’ she said, her eyes showing surprise.

  I was glad there was no tension between us after so long, given our tumultuous parting.

  ‘Well, you can tease me later but let me tell you that I also happen to own a photography studio, if that makes you feel any better,’ I told her, grinning.

  ‘That’s great,’ she said, her astonishment giving way to a smile.

  But the smile seemed superfluous. It seemed as if she was trying hard to look happy for me.

  ‘So, how’s life? How are you holding up?’ I asked, folding my arms across my chest, steering the topic to another direction.

  ‘Life is good. Everything is good,’ she said and nodded, clutching her handbag tightly.

  ‘And . . . what are you doing here?’ I gestured towards the support centre.

  ‘Oh, this?’ she asked nervously

  ‘Pagal toh nahin hogayi sach mein? [I hope you have not actually gone mad?]’ I said, stifling a laugh.

  She shot me a look of anger before her lips twitched into a smile.

  ‘Just kidding!’ I told her, throwing my hands up in the air. ‘Actually, I had never expected to come across you all of a sudden. I’m so glad to see you after a long time, Zynah.’

  ‘Me too,’ she said slowly.

  ‘Should I drop you home?’ I asked, reading her face.

  ‘Um, no thanks. I’ve asked a friend to pick me up from the market across the road. I guess I should leave,’ she said and moved past me.

  ‘Yeah but . . . ’

  ‘It was lovely seeing you, Rehaan. Take care. Bye,’ she said, closing the conversation abruptly. She walked away. My gaze followed her until she disappeared into one of the shops across the street.

  My eyes fell on a card lying face down on the ground just a few inches away from my feet, where she had stood earlier. It was Zynah’s membership card for the support group; her initials were written on it. I shoved the card into my pocket, deciding I would drop it at her place the next day. This way I’d also get a chance to meet her parents and ask them if everything was okay in their daughter’s life. Though I had no right to interfere in her life, I felt I wanted to know how she was.

  As planned, the next morning I went to drop Zynah’s card at her house on Willow Road in Hampstead. I thought her parents still lived there. Parking the car in the driveway, I got out and looked around. Everything looked the same. Mr Malik opened the door for me when I rang the bell.

  ‘Yes?’ he asked, furrowing his brows.

  Even after a gap of three years, he still looked the same, sturdy and charming.

  ‘Good afternoon, Malik Uncle. Did you not recognize me?’ I asked, smiling.

  He studied my face for a few seconds before his face broke into a smile.

  ‘Oh! Rehaan! How are you, beta?’ he said and embraced me in a tight hug. The embrace made me realize that I had missed these people in my life.

  ‘I’m good, Uncle. How about you?’

  ‘Come inside.’

  As he ushered me in, a wave of nostalgia hit me and brought back numerous memories—some endearing, some nasty.

  ‘We thought you had returned to Pakistan.’

  The word ‘we’ made me wonder if it included Zynah.

  ‘I do visit Pakistan once a year but I am based in London for now,’ I told him as we made our way to the TV lounge.

  He asked me what I was doing in London for a living and I told him about running a photography studio and driving for Uber on weekends. He appreciated my efforts by saying he was proud of me. He offered me tea but I politely refused.

  ‘So, what brings you here today, young man?’
/>
  ‘I, uh, actually met Zynah last night outside a support group centre,’ I said, fishing the card out of my pocket. ‘It fell out of her handbag so I came here to return it.’ I placed the card on the coffee table.

  He picked up the card with shaking fingers and looked at it.

  Noticing the oddness in his behaviour, I decided to ask him about her.

  ‘Uncle, is . . . is Zynah doing okay?’ I stammered.

  ‘What do you mean, beta?’ he asked in a low voice.

  ‘What I mean is, she’s a part of a support group . . . people join such groups only when they’re facing some problems. So, I wanted to know if she is okay . . . ’

  ‘She is fine. Yes, we did ask her why she had joined this group. She said she had joined it for her own peace of mind and satisfaction. At least that’s what she told us,’ he said, shrugging his shoulders.

  I pursed my lips and nodded at him.

  ‘Her husband, Aariz, is a nice guy. She seems happy with him,’ he said but it seemed as if he was trying to convince himself.

  My heart cringed at hearing his name. I couldn’t forget him. He had taken away my happiness.

  ‘I hope she is,’ I said, nodding. ‘I should take your leave now, Uncle.’ I stood up and shook hands with him.

  ‘It was good to meet you after a long time. Do visit when your aunt is at home. She’s out for a routine medical check-up.’

  ‘How is she doing now?’ I asked, suddenly remembering the panic attacks she used to have.

  ‘She’s fine. More stable than before,’ he said.

  ‘Take care of yourself, Uncle. I will see you around soon.’

  On my way out, my eyes strayed to the wall covered with lots of framed photos. I zoomed in on one in which Zynah stood dressed as a bride with a man by her side. Their faces seemed happy. At that moment, I realized she had been right all along. Aariz definitely looked sophisticated, decent and like he had a charismatic personality. Perhaps I would look like a dunce in front of him.

  Thankfully, I had to attend Vikram and Avantika’s anniversary party that evening because thoughts about Zynah continued to occupy my mind. Her eyes, her smile, her face—everything about her had possessed me once again. I found myself under her spell yet again. She had joined a support group to get away from whatever issues she was facing and her family was okay with it. So, why should it worry me? I must not encroach upon her privacy. I went to the party to get away from these thoughts. I searched for the waiter across the bar to order a drink, but instead my eyes landed on someone else. Dressed in a button-down Hawaiian shirt and cream-coloured cotton pants, he was seated on a bar stool, smoking a cigarette and laughing with a bunch of people around him, all swaying lightly to the music. I tried to remember where I’d seen him before. One of the women with him gave a light peck on his cheek and he smiled at her.

  Why did his face look so familiar?

  It suddenly struck me. This was Zynah’s husband, Aariz. I was positive that it was him. I couldn’t forget the face from the wedding photo I had seen earlier that day. But, what was he doing amidst a bunch of women? The way he flirted with them and vice versa didn’t seem proper. Was he having an affair behind Zynah’s back? Was this the reason why Zynah had sought help from a support group? It started to make sense now.

  Clenching my fists hard, I stepped quickly towards him but someone grabbed me midway.

  ‘Rehaan! Where are you going?’ I turned around to find Avantika glaring at me.

  ‘Oh, hi,’ I exhaled deeply.

  ‘What’s up? Are you okay?’ she said with a look of suspicion.

  ‘Yeah, I am perfectly okay. Were you looking for me?’ I asked her, changing the subject.

  ‘Yes! We’re going to cut the cake on the top floor. Come, join us.’

  She held my arm and dragged me away.

  I turned around to take a quick look at the jerk who was still flirting with the women. I couldn’t believe Zynah had left me for this prick. She chose this man over me. Why Zynah? Why?

  The next morning, I dragged myself out of bed, my head throbbing from a hangover. Ruffling my hair, I made a stop at the kitchen to switch on the espresso machine for a shot of coffee. I sat down on a stool at the counter. Flashbacks from last night ran through my head. I wanted to tell Zynah everything I had witnessed at the club. Whatever followed next was up to her. Whether she considered me a friend or not, I knew I had to play my part. Either she was too naive to notice anything or she pretended to ignore it. Both of these options seemed unlike her. Whatever she decided, I had to get this off my chest. My cell phone buzzed, breaking my reverie. It was a call from my assistant at the studio, Hassan.

  ‘Yeah?’ I asked.

  ‘Morning! Are you done selecting the pictures? I kept waiting for your email until late last night. I left a call and a message but there was no response.’

  ‘Shoot!’ I hissed. I had completely forgotten that I had work. ‘Yeah, I have,’ I lied to him as I sprinted to my room to grab the laptop.

  ‘I’ll send the email to you in a second. Hold on.’ With the cell phone tucked under my ear, I got the laptop and put it on the kitchen counter. The espresso machine beeped. Damn! My coffee!

  ‘No! Don’t send them through email. Store them on the USB drive,’ Hassan said from the other end.

  ‘USB drive?’ I asked, ruffling my hair, confused.

  ‘The one I left yesterday?’ he reminded.

  I looked for it, and found it still plugged into the laptop.

  ‘Yeah,’ I said, detaching it from the laptop. ‘I have it.’

  ‘Great. I’ll come over to get it.’

  ‘Sure, I’m heading out in an hour so you won’t find me here. Ping me whenever you need me.’

  ‘You going somewhere?’

  ‘Yeah,’ I said, my mind drifting back to Zynah. ‘I have an important meeting to attend.’

  It was drizzling when I jutted my head out of the car to take a quick peek at the main entrance of the support centre. I had taken a chance as I had no idea when she attended the sessions. Malik Uncle would have definitely told her that I dropped by her place to return her membership card.

  Feeling the drops of rain on my face, I closed my eyes for a few seconds as I waited for her to appear. My intuition proved to be right. I opened my eyes to find her standing a few feet away from me, her arms folded.

  Straightening myself, I motioned at her with a quick wave. There was no response from her. She didn’t move when I took short steps towards her. When she saw me approach, she shook her head briskly and started to turn away.

  ‘Zynah!’ I called after her, almost sprinting. ‘Wait!’

  ‘Why are you following me, Rehaan?’ she asked, twirling around, a few strands of her hair falling over her face. Her look was colder than the wind.

  ‘I . . .’ The words trailed away as I looked at her, my face solemn. ‘I’m not following you, Zynah. I just wanted to . . .’

  ‘Really?’ She crossed her arms, cutting me in between. ‘What were you doing yesterday at my place, then? Spying around? Asking my family if I was happy or not? What makes you so interested in my life all of a sudden?’

  She took a jab at me and I stood there, clueless, my jaw hanging open.

  ‘What?’ I whispered, shocked. ‘Didn’t your dad tell you that I stopped by to drop off your card?’

  ‘You could have also handed over the damn card to the help desk inside or given it to me directly,’ she said, her accusing eyes piercing through me.

  ‘I would suggest you keep a distance from me and my family. It will be better for the both of us.’ She adjusted the handbag flung across her shoulder and prepared to walk away.

  I could not comprehend what had made her so furious—asking her family about her or because she found me waiting for her now. Whatever the reason for her reaction, I decided not to stay quiet and watch her walk away.

  ‘And I would suggest that you leave your flirt of a husband before he intends to hurt you even mor
e.’

  There, I had said it. Out loud. Finally.

  I didn’t want to regret my words but I did feel a slight pang of remorse. Luckily, my words had their effect. Zynah stopped in her tracks without turning towards me. I walked towards her, crossing where she stood until I stood face-to-face with her.

  Zynah’s eyes looked at the ground near her feet. She didn’t flinch a muscle while I stood across her, waiting for her to react.

  ‘Listen, Zynah, I did not mean to hurt you or . . .’

  ‘What . . .what did you say about my husband?’ she interrupted with a hiss. She finally looked up.

  ‘Can we go and talk somewhere else, please?’ I said with a pleading look.

  Holding two cups of coffee in my hands, I made my way towards Zynah who was sitting in a café near the Tower Bridge which overlooked the river. Her eyes were set on the moving river. The skies had opened up and it was pouring again. I handed her the cup but she refused to take it with a gesture of her hand.

  ‘Rehaan, I am not here for coffee. You were supposed to tell me something,’ she said, her face turning serious again.

  ‘Fine . . . ’ I said, realizing she was here only to hear what I had to say. ‘Let’s come to the point. I saw your husband at the Egg Club last night, surrounded with goris. I am sure he was flirting with them. One of them was literally throwing herself on him.’

  ‘And what makes you so sure that person was Aariz?’ she asked, her voice laced with irritation. ‘You’ve not even seen him!’

  ‘I have!’ I said. She furrowed her brows in confusion. ‘I saw your wedding picture at your parents’ place the other day,’ I said slowly, a little embarrassed for being nosy.

  Zynah shook her head.

  ‘No, that person can’t be Aariz. You’re definitely mistaken. And I think I’ve wasted my time by coming here and listening to your lies.’

  ‘Zynah, I’m not mistaken. I saw him. It was him. I swear!’

  ‘You must have seen him at the club, but I don’t believe the story about him flirting with other women,’ she said, looking away.