Chapter 4
Reshma
‘Saleema made plans for us to go and get our nails done, so I’m about to head out for that, but we should be back before lunchtime.’
Zafar didn’t respond. Reshma couldn’t put her finger on why, but she had a feeling that something was troubling him. He seemed distracted. Last night, she had thought it might be tiredness and being around lots of new faces, but this morning he seemed more so.
‘Are you feeling all right?’ She lowered her eyebrows as she asked him.
When she’d come up to bed last night, he’d been fast asleep, not moving even an inch as she got into bed beside him.
This morning had been the same as she’d got up and got ready.
Assuming he must be really tired, she’d not woken him and left him to sleep it off.
‘Huh? Yeah’ – he cleared his throat – ‘just a bit groggy, I think. Jet lag perhaps.’
‘Well, maybe a shower and some breakfast will help. There are plenty of things in the kitchen downstairs, so help yourself. There’s a coffee machine too and there’s a card beside it with instructions on how to operate it.
You’ve got the villa to yourself, so just take it easy and I’ll see you in a bit. ’
Reshma smiled at him, and after a moment, he smiled back and nodded. ‘Yeah. Have fun.’
She collected her bag and made her way downstairs, wondering if it was more than just jet lag affecting Zafar. She picked her phone up off the island and saw a message from Saleema.
Running a bit late. Will come and get you in about 15. xoxo
Reshma shook her head. Classic Saleema.
Oh, well.
She put her bag and phone on the island and her eyes went to the coffee machine. She decided that since she had time, she’d make Zafar a coffee to save him from struggling with the machine on his first day here. He looked like he could do with the pick-me-up.
She put a selection of croissants and pain aux raisins on a plate and a large mug of coffee on a tray and carried them upstairs. The bed was empty and she could see that the bathroom was empty through its open door.
‘Mum, slow down. Just hear me out.’ She heard Zafar’s voice from the other side of the curtain and saw that the patio door was open and he was standing just outside it.
‘No, you listen to me, Zafar.’ His mother’s voice came through loud and clear on speakerphone in the silence.
Reshma didn’t want to intrude and decided to turn back, but her mother-in-law’s next words stopped her in her tracks.
‘If I had been here, I’d never have let your father force you to go there. I’m barely away for a handful of days and I come back to find out that he’s sent you to Mombasa after that girl.’
Force you? Sent you?
Was Zafar’s mum saying what Reshma thought she was?
She lowered the slightly shaking tray onto the table beside the sofa before she dropped it.
‘Her name is Reshma, Mum. Please stop referring to her as that girl , it’s not nice. I’ve told you before.’
His mother huffed. ‘Fine. But my point still stands. If she’d gone by herself, then that was her choice.
I don’t understand why your father insisted that you go after her.
You hadn’t planned to go with her, otherwise the two of you would have gone together or you would have joined her there of your own accord.
When I told him as much, he started talking to me about the family’s reputation, for God’s sake, asking me what the Mirs would think if no one else from our family was there.
I’m not sure why it’s not good enough for him that you didn’t want to go. ’
‘Mum, stop stressing about this, please. All Dad said was that it doesn’t look good if Reshma is out here by herself and that I should be here with her. He’s not wrong. It’s really not so bad and it’s only for a couple of weeks.’
Reshma sucked in a shuddering breath, feeling it sharply in her chest, like she was slowly being stabbed with an icicle, the cold spreading from the centre of her chest throughout her body despite the tropical temperature.
Zafar wasn’t here because he wanted to be.
He hadn’t come here to be with her. He was here because he’d been told to …
No, forced by his father. She’d misunderstood his appearance because her family had decided to surprise her and he’d allowed them to.
He’d allowed her to believe that he was there because it was where he wanted to be, and like the fool she was, she’d thought he was there for her.
She’d wanted it so much that she’d gullibly believed it to be true.
‘Reshma?’ Zafar was standing on this side of the patio door now, his phone in his hand by his side and confusion lacing his voice. ‘I thought you were going out?’
Reshma shook her head as she slowly lowered herself onto the sofa, nearly missing it but righting herself in time.
‘I’m such an idiot.’ Her voice started out as little more than a whisper.
‘I should have known. You said no to coming here. But I let myself get caught up in the moment when everyone arrived. I should have known.’
‘Shit.’ She heard him mumble. Then he spoke a bit louder. ‘I was going to tell you, Reshma. That’s what I wanted to say this morning, but it’s not …’ He ran a hand through his hair, the strands sticking out at all angles. ‘What part of that conversation did you hear?’
Reshma looked up at him, her shock slowly giving way to an emotion she hardly ever felt, believing it to be one which never served any purpose but left a person feeling drained of energy and hollow.
Anger.
At the situation. At him. But more than that, anger at herself. When was she going to learn?
Every moment in her life in which she had felt let down, an afterthought or unimportant flashed through her mind’s eye as she sat there, feeling numb but also acutely sensitive to all the feelings that were giving her an emotional bashing.
Her father not stepping up to his responsibility to care for her – his only daughter and the last link to his deceased wife, who he had claimed had once been the love of his life.
Her maternal grandparents rejecting her because she reminded them too much of the daughter they’d lost.
Her father promising and then failing to ever live up to any promise of being with her and ultimately showing her that there was no place for her with his new wife and children.
She closed her eyes, trying to even her breaths which were sawing in and out of her, but all that did was intensify each and every memory of moments that had left an indelible mark on her.
It was strange how, even now, she could feel like that child her father had left with his brother, except this time, she wasn’t feeling like that because of her father.
But because of Zafar.
The man she had chosen to marry after her uncle had suggested the match, but the man who had never made the effort to forge a relationship with her.
In the thirteen months they’d been married, it had always been her who made the effort, only to be met with a lacklustre response.
He was always civil and polite, but wasn’t there more to marriage, even an arranged one? Didn’t she deserve more?
It was clear to her that he didn’t want to be with her. He had only married her because she had been his father’s and late grandfather’s choice, the man she knew Zafar revered above all others.
He never did anything with her because he wanted to. It was always because he had to or because it was perceived to be the right thing to do, like coming to Mombasa. What had his mother said? Oh, yes. Family reputation. Something that meant a great deal to Zafar.
She was pleased to hear that her voice was devoid of all emotion when she opened her eyes and responded to his question.
‘Enough to know that you’re not here because this is where you want to be.
You’re here because your father told you to be here and being the model son you are, you did as you were told to. ’
He took half a step forward and then stopped. ‘It’s not just that, Reshma. I can see that it was the right thing to do. You do so much for me and my family, it’s only fair that if you want to—’
‘So, it’s payback then, is it? You think you owe me one?’ Her anger bubbled to the surface.
‘What? No, that’s not it. I just … This isn’t how I wanted to have this conversation.’
Reshma scoffed. ‘I don’t think you were going to have this conversation at all, otherwise you would have told me the truth yesterday.
You told me it wasn’t your plan to come here and surprise me, but you never said that you were here because your father made you come.
Forced you, in fact. You didn’t say that had it been up to you, you would not be here at all.
Because, the fact of the matter is, Zafar, that you don’t want to be here with me.
I’m not important enough, I’m not your priority.
You do things with me because you have to or they’re expected of you.
Nothing is ever forthcoming from you . And, like an absolute idiot, I actually thought you were here because you wanted to be, when that’s never been the case before. ’
‘That’s not true, Reshma. You are important. And I really was going to tell you about Dad encouraging me to come. I wasn’t lying when I said I had a lot of work to do and didn’t think I could afford to take a lengthy break from it.’ His voice had an urgency to it, but it was completely lost on her.
She couldn’t believe how stupid she’d been. She’d actually thought he’d wanted to be here. That he’d realised that fact after she had left. He’d discovered that he did want to spend time with her and had followed her out here. But how wrong she had been.
She would never be his priority. His choice.
Any forlorn hope she’d had of having anything more with him shattered to pieces.
There was never going to be any such thing between them and the sooner she accepted that fact, the better it would be for her.
She needed to realise that what hadn’t happened in twenty-nine years of her life wasn’t going to happen now.
She wasn’t suddenly going to become someone worth doing something for.
Reshma shook her head, though whether she was shaking it in denial or disbelief, she couldn’t say for sure. She pressed her fingers to her chest and then her forehead, trying to hold the pain at bay.
Her mind went back to the day before, when, in her naivety, she’d celebrated Zafar’s arrival – thanked him for it, for God’s sake – but had been completely oblivious to his true motive, and she covered her face with her hands, feeling the sting of tears prick the corners of her eyes.
Really, when was she going to learn? What would it take for her to stop having expectations of people who were never going to live up to them?
She’d been with Zafar for long enough for him to have shown her that she was an important part of his life and he hadn’t.
What more proof did she need? She’d seen him up close and knew how he was with those he cared about, but he’d never connected with her in a way she had always hoped for. Like a true partner.
She had never expected declarations of undying love from him, she knew how far-fetched a dream that was.
But she had expected honesty from him. Honesty and perhaps friendship.
But the only thing she seemed to have was cold civility.
Maybe even indifference. While she, in all her naivety and gullibility, had fallen for everything he represented.
And what did she have to show for it?
She had one more person proving that her existence in his life, or lack thereof, was one and the same thing and he had only shown up because he’d been asked to. To keep up appearances.
‘Reshma? Look at me, please. I swear to God I was going to tell you what led to me coming here. I was just waiting for the right opportunity. I’ve never lied to you before and I wouldn’t start now.’
Reshma moved her hands away from her face, glad that the tears that had threatened to fall hadn’t. She didn’t want to show Zafar any more evidence of the hurt he’d caused her. She took a few deep breaths before she looked at him, his expression sombre.
‘I’m sorry that this is how you found out. I was just waiting for the right time to tell you. And I’m glad I’m here, honestly.’ A corner of his lips lifted but she wouldn’t call it a smile.
She had no idea what to say or do in that moment. Her mind was both full and empty, and nothing made any sense to her.
She didn’t know how long they stayed in the same place, her sitting on the edge of the sofa and Zafar standing there awkwardly, the only noise in the room coming from the humming of the air-conditioning unit.
The doorbell rang three times in succession and Reshma swung her gaze to the bedroom door, as if that would tell her who was there.
‘You were going out with your cousins, weren’t you?’ Zafar asked as the doorbell rang again.
It was probably Saleema and Haniya, finally ready to leave.
Reshma internally laughed at the irony of the situation. If her cousins had been ready on time and if she hadn’t decided to be considerate and bring Zafar breakfast, she would have been none the wiser and would have carried on with her day, blissfully happy in her little bubble for a bit longer.
If ‘ifs’ and ‘buts’ were candy and nuts, we’d all have a merry Christmas.
Reshma got up, pushing her thoughts to the back of her mind.
‘That’s probably Saleema and Niya. I’m not sure if that coffee is still warm enough to drink.
If not, feel free to make yourself another cup.
’ She walked to the door and paused, turning to face him.
‘And feel free to book your flight back to London. You don’t need to be here, certainly not for me.
Go back home, Zafar. I’ll let my family know that there were important things that needed your attention. ’
And with that, she left the room and made her way downstairs, grabbing her bag and phone before she left the villa on wooden legs.