by Sara Naveed
There was no name on the small note pasted neatly on the box, except my name and address.
‘Who sent me this?’ I whispered to myself.
I somehow managed to drag it into my living room. After struggling with the brown wrapping paper for ten minutes, I pulled out a black-and-white portrait of myself. I took a few steps back to look at the gigantic picture. Memories from that time came flooding back and I was transported to another time—Rehaan and I cycling through the streets of London, giggling, soaking up the sun. I remembered that day vividly. I also remembered that the photographer had caught me unawares. I knew who he was. I knew him.
As the realization dawned on me, I dropped everything and ran as fast as my legs could carry me out of the door and down the stairs. I looked around, my frantic eyes searching for him. But he was nowhere to be seen.
‘Damn. . . . ’ I hissed, letting out an exhausted gasp.
‘Looking for a ride?’ I heard someone say from behind.
My face broke into an involuntary smile and I quickly turned around.
Rehaan stood a few feet away from me, grinning.
Rehaan
‘Ride?’ she asked, hiding her smile. ‘Why, Captain? Have you started driving Uber in Manchester as well?’ Clad in pyjamas and a loose T-shirt, her hair tied up in a bun, she looked at me incredulously.
‘Yeah, you can say that,’ I said, shrugging.
She stifled a giggle, covering her mouth with her hand.
‘Did you like the portrait?’ I asked.
‘Yes, but I like the photographer more,’ she said with a coy smile.
Her confession made me smile. By the time I took a few steps in her direction, her eyes had turned moist. Her presence soothed my senses. I was a fool to leave her in the first place.
‘I thought you were not going to come back,’ she said, trying to hold back her tears.
‘But I always do, right?’ I said, sighing. ‘I always come back for you, Zynah.’
‘Why?’ she asked. ‘I don’t deserve you. I’ve always caused you pain, made you suffer. I have hurt you, Rehaan. I’m not a good person.’
‘I’m not a good person either. I left you when you needed me the most. I should have waited till you had made a decision.’
‘Do you know, about the . . . divorce?’ she asked, her brows creasing.
‘Yes,’ I nodded, adding, ‘Aariz met me and told me everything. I’m proud of you, Zynah. I’m proud that you made the right decision and stood up for yourself. Aariz seems to be in a happy space now. You have changed his life.’
Hearing me say this, she smiled.
‘I didn’t change his life; he changed mine,’ she said. ‘I would have never realized what I was really missing out on if he hadn’t come into my life. He made me realize who I really was. Most importantly, who I should be with.’
I smiled and held her hand. She looked at our hands and smiled back at me.
‘You know what I feared the most? Living without him and getting a divorce. But the day I realized these were mere fears, I set him free and, in the process, liberated myself.’
I continued to look into her eyes, her hand firmly held in mine.
‘So thank you for coming back and making me realize that I could stand up for myself and live my dreams.’
‘Don’t thank me. Thank yourself. You’re the one who fought for yourself. Only you,’ I said.
She nodded with a smile.
‘Should we go inside? I’m sorry I didn’t offer . . .’
‘Wait,’ I said, interrupting her. She looked at me, surprised.
‘Can I say something first?’ I asked, raising a brow, a playful smile on my lips.
She nodded, her eyes twinkling with happiness.
‘I did say it a long time ago but perhaps you did not listen,’ I added.
‘I’m sorry for not listening. Please say it now.’
‘I love you, Zynah Malik. I love you very much. I have loved you since the moment I laid eyes on you back in school. You’re my inspiration. You’re my world. You’re . . . you’re everything I have ever dreamed of,’ I told her.
‘That’s it?’ she asked, a tear escaping her eye.
‘Um, I guess. Why, what happened?’ I asked. ‘Did I say something wrong?’
‘No! This is the first time you’ve said it right!’ She quickly drew closer to me, wrapped her arms around my neck and locked her lips with mine.
I took a step back and held her firmly by her waist. The kiss deepened, sending an electric jolt across my body. I didn’t know kissing Zynah would be such an experience. We broke the kiss when we realized a small crowd had gathered around us. Before I could process what had happened, Zynah burst out laughing. Seeing her reaction, I couldn’t hold myself back and started laughing too. I leaned closer to her and held her face in my hands. She looked at me longingly as I kissed her forehead. With her eyes closed, she leaned towards me for an embrace. I hugged her back, my lips grazing her hair. There couldn’t be a happier moment in my life. I had Zynah in my arms. What else could I have asked for? I might have just got her in my life but she always had all of my heart.
Acknowledgements
Whenever I have to write the acknowledgements section of a book, I’m consumed with an overwhelming feeling because I have so many people to thank. I would not be here if it were not for these people—my parents and my siblings, especially my younger sister, Ayesha. She has been a constant support and will always remain my first reader and critic.
I am blessed to have worked with some incredibly talented people at Penguin Random House India: Tarini, my editor, who has been supportive, accommodating and appreciative since the beginning of my career; Peter Modoli, my publicist, who is always there when I need him; Meena Rajasekaran, who has, once again, designed a beautiful cover for this book; and Saloni Mital, who has been the best copy editor I could have asked for.
I would also like to express my gratitude to all those people who have been a part of my journey: my friends, colleagues, authors, readers, fans and well-wishers.
I want to thank everyone who ever said anything positive to me or taught me something. I heard it all, and it meant something. Trust me.
Finally, I want to thank Allah—without Him I wouldn’t have been able to do any of this.
THE BEGINNING
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PENGUIN BOOKS
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Penguin Books is part of the Penguin Random House group of companies whose addresses can be found at global.penguinrandomhouse.com.
This collection published 2018
Copyright © Sara Naveed 2018
The moral right of the author has been asserted
Jacket images © Meena Rajasekaran
ISBN 978-0-143-44474-9
This digital edition published in 2018.
e-ISBN: 978-9-353-05359-8
This book is sold subject to the condition that it shall not, by way of trade or otherwise, be lent, resold, hired out, or otherwise circulated without the publisher’s prior consent in any form of binding or cover other than that in which it is published and without a similar condition including this condition being imposed on the subsequent purchaser.
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