Chapter 7
Zafar
Zafar felt like someone had cleaved his heart in two and the pain of it was enough to make every breath he took difficult.
A sense of guilt crushed him worse than any he’d experienced before – and he was well familiar with guilt, this wasn’t the first time he was facing it – because this was all his fault.
The sight of Reshma crying, sobbing her heart out was something he never wanted to see again.
Her spiky eye lashes, shiny trails down her cheeks, it had made his heart squeeze painfully, knowing he was the cause of her anguish.
Her distress had been palpable and he’d felt helpless in the face of it.
He hadn’t known what to do or say to make it stop, to make her feel better.
He’d felt more useless then than he ever had before.
Each sob had felt like he was being flogged – and flogged he should be for this.
He was grateful that she hadn’t pushed him away when he’d gone to her, but then she seemed just about able to sit upright and the fact that she’d got up and gone straight to bed, curling into herself under the duvet despite it being as warm as it was told him how exhausted she was. Of their situation. Of him.
Never in a million years would he want to be the cause of distress to Reshma, one of the gentlest souls he’d ever met.
The whole idea behind not telling her the truth straight up was because he hadn’t wanted to hurt her.
Of course, in hindsight he could see that perhaps that might have been the lesser of the two causes of pain to her.
She wouldn’t have broken down like this if he’d come clean in the first place.
Zafar padded towards her bedside and switched the lamp off, looking down at the bundle that was his wife.
His wife .
The woman he’d promised to care for. To cherish. To be with through thick and thin.
He’d done none of those things. He cared for her materially, ensuring she lacked for nothing, but that didn’t make him a good husband.
Reshma was an independent woman, more than capable of taking care of herself, she didn’t need him for that.
She’d never expected or asked it of him either.
He’d done it because he had thought it was the right thing to do. But what about the rest of it?
Zafar moved away from the bed and, opening the patio door, he stepped outside.
He had to acknowledge that he hadn’t been there for Reshma.
So, their marriage had been arranged and they weren’t in love with each other.
That didn’t mean he had to distance himself from her altogether.
Being arranged didn’t doom a marriage or the people involved in it.
Arranged or not, it was still a marriage and it required the same level of effort and commitment and the fact of the matter was that Zafar hadn’t given it enough. Any really.
It was a hard truth to acknowledge and accept, but if he couldn’t be honest with himself right now, then when else would he be?
Heaving a beleaguered sigh, he sat on the balcony chair, which during the day would have a splendid view of the ocean. Right now, he could only hear it, catching the briefest shimmer of the water if he kept his eyes on the horizon.
His mind went back to Reshma’s statement about wondering why he’d agreed to marry her in the first place.
His life had gone through a series of twists and turns leading up to that point.
Twists and turns he’d never envisaged before but which had gone on to shape his thinking into what it had become now.
He hadn’t had any plans to get married at the time, he hadn’t even had a serious girlfriend since he’d come back home after three years away.
He’d been focused on doing what he needed to do to take the place his grandfather had wanted him to take.
The place he was supposed to have taken, until he had decided he wanted no part of his grandfather’s archaic empire and had tried to forge his own path away from it all, only to come back and agree to take the helm at his grandfather’s and father’s behest.
His match with Reshma had been arranged around that time and with everything looking in favour of the match, persuasive advice from his grandfather and with a lack of prospects of his own to put forward, Zafar had seen no reason to refuse and more reasons to agree to the marriage.
Not least because aside from the fact that most of his family had been in agreement and approved wholeheartedly of Reshma, he had too.
She had appealed to him in ways he had never stopped to analyse and using his family’s approval as a springboard, he’d gone ahead with the match.
But the truth was, he had liked her and chosen to marry her of his own free will.
Had his family’s approval contributed to his decision?
Yes, it had, but the final decision had been his.
At least he’d had more of a say in the matter than his cousin Safiya had when it had been her turn.
But here they were.
In the last year, he’d made no effort to take their relationship forward. He’d given nothing of himself to her and he’d not bothered to get to know her any better either. His mind went to her statement about love.
I don’t put a great deal of stock in love from others. God knows, it’s not come my way from the people who you’d expect to offer it unconditionally.
There was so much to unpack there and the stuff she’d said about not knowing what it was she did that drove people away.
It alluded to so much more, deeper issues about things that went beyond him and their relationship, and he felt more guilt at not knowing what those issues were. He wanted to know what she meant.
His phone buzzed and he pulled it out of his pocket.
Murad: Awake?
Murad and his uncanny ability to get in touch in such moments. Zafar shook his head in some awe as he messaged him back.
Zafar: What’s up?
Murad: You didn’t send me an update so I thought I’d ask for one myself.
Zafar: I spoke to you this morning. What did you think I’d accomplish in ten hours?
Murad: Obviously not as much as I would have
Zafar debated telling Murad about what had happened just now and decided against it. He needed to get his own head around it and figure out a way forward for himself on this one, for now at least.
Zafar:
Murad: Keep in touch, mate. And remember what I said.
Zafar: What bit? You talk a lot.
Murad: Lol. Simple gestures.
Zafar put his phone down, shaking his head at Murad’s idea of simple gestures .
It was easier said than done, especially after the way this evening had turned out.
At this point, Zafar felt that anything he did had the potential to blow up in his face no matter how small or simple it was, but he couldn’t let that deter him.
He needed to do something , there was no doubt about it. Something to show Reshma that she and their relationship were important to him. He didn’t want to be another person who let her down and caused her hurt and disappointment as she’d alluded to.
Heaving a tired sigh, Zafar made his way inside to sleep.
He slept on and off and when he did manage to fall asleep, he was restless.
He was wide awake at six the next morning, watching the morning light filter in through the gaps he’d left in the curtains when he’d drawn them haphazardly last night.
Last night.
Memories and feelings from the night before assailed him, but rather than let them anchor him down like they had last night, Zafar decided that with the new day, he’d start afresh.
He peered in Reshma’s direction. She was deep asleep, her cheeks lightly flushed and her lips slightly parted.
One arm was tucked under the duvet and the other was thrown over her head.
Her nose stud sparkled as the soft morning light reflected off it.
The skin under her eyes was puffy from all the tears she’d shed, making his heart squeeze painfully at the reminder.
Loose strands of hair that had escaped her plait framed her face, and as tempted as he was to push them back, he didn’t.
He didn’t want to risk waking her and it was probably a good idea to keep his hands to himself.
He needed to remember that they weren’t in a place where he had the freedom to do that.
He carefully scooted out of bed and fifteen minutes later was swimming lengths in the pool again, remembering how much he enjoyed this particular form of exercise.
Work commitments and family responsibilities had slowly curtailed the time he spent on working out and he limited it to runs, going to the gym or occasionally going to the boxing ring with Ash.
It would be ideal if he had a pool at home, but he wasn’t that big money – not yet at least. He couldn’t justify such an expense.
But once their hotel deal was a go, maybe he’d be able to do that.
With his mind on work, he powered through the water, swimming length after length.
The hotel deal was at a crucial phase for them and it was essential that all their T’s were crossed and their I’s were dotted.
It was a long-held dream of his grandfather’s that he’d never been able to realise in his lifetime and if Zafar could see this deal completed and announce his first step in that direction in time for the date that would have been his grandfather’s birthday – 10 December – he’d be content that he was on the right path to making his grandfather proud.
Feeling the build-up of lactic acid in his thighs, he slowed his pace down and reached the end of the pool, leaning against the edge to catch his breath.
He faced the beach, seeing it just above some artfully arranged flower boxes, and he realised that in no time, he had fallen back into work mode.
Less than an hour ago, he had woken up and seen the after-effects of tears on Reshma’s face and instead of thinking about what he was going to do to bring them to a better place – to do better himself – he was thinking about work.
Zafar shook his head, running a hand through his hair.
This was wrong. He was wrong. He needed to push thoughts about work to the back of his mind – unless some shit hit the fan back home, in which case Ibrahim or Murad would let him know – and concentrate on being present in the moment.
It was difficult but not impossible. And it was important.
He hauled himself out of the pool, and after a quick shower, he was in the kitchen, deciding that he’d get a head start on making breakfast.
He was cracking eggs in a bowl when Daadi came through the corridor and into the living area.
‘Well, would you look at that.’
He looked up as she came towards him, her walking stick nowhere in sight.
‘Where’s your walking stick?’
‘I don’t need it.’
‘Yes, you do.’
‘My knees are feeling good. The heat here has warmed my joints and bones. I feel like I could be doing cartwheels in a few days.’
Zafar’s heart lurched at the idea and he was about to read his grandmother the riot act when he saw her grinning at him.
‘Gotcha!’
He shook his head as he whisked the eggs after seasoning them. ‘Imagine what Daada would have said if he’d heard you?’
‘Ha. Your grandfather needed to look away from his work for that to happen, sweetheart. May God rest his soul.’ Daadi shook her head this time before slowly settling herself in a seat at the island, watching him work.
Zafar frowned at her words as he dropped a knob of butter into the frying pan. ‘What do you mean? He doted on you.’
She laughed softly. ‘If only life was as rosy as the eyes of youth found it to be. Oh, my darling boy. You saw your grandfather and grandmother; you didn’t see a husband and a wife.
They are two completely different things.
Especially someone with your grandfather’s way of thinking.
’ Her tone sounded less fond and more … disenchanted and Zafar was shocked into freezing for a moment, until the butter started sizzling and he remembered what he was supposed to be doing.
‘Anyway, let’s not dwell on days long gone.
Where’s that precious girl of mine? Still sleeping? ’
Zafar flicked a glance upwards. ‘I think she’s awake, I heard her moving about in the room.’
‘And so you thought you’d make breakfast.’
‘Something like that.’ He moved the eggs in the frying pan, avoiding his grandmother’s eyes as she stared at him.
‘I’m happy to hear that, sweetheart. Sometime I worry you’re trying too hard to be like your grandfather, and while he had some admirable qualities, emulating him in every aspect of life isn’t something I think is a good idea.
In fact, I know it’s not a good idea. You need to be you .
You need to make an effort to be more present.
More romantic. All it takes is a simple gesture. ’
‘Morning.’ Reshma came down the stairs and paused momentarily when she saw him standing there with a whisk in his hand.
He smiled and she dipped her chin, moving her fingers over her ear as she came towards Daadi, kissing her on the cheek when she presented it to her.
Zafar hadn’t missed the echo of Murad’s words in his grandmother’s. He just hoped that whatever he did helped bridge the distance between them.
Reshma moved around the island and pulled a glass out of the cupboard. She filled it with juice and then came to where he had made a mess on the worktop. She reached for the loaf of bread, but he put his hand over hers, feeling hers stiffen the instant he made contact.
‘I’ll do it. Go and sit with Daadi and I’ll bring the eggs and toast. Would you like any of the pastries?’
She pulled her hand back and shook her head, not making eye contact with him.
‘Yes, come and sit here, Reshma. Let Zafar take care of breakfast today,’ Daadi said jovially, though her eyes were on the pair of them like a hawk’s, probably sensing the frostiness between them.
Thankfully, she didn’t say anything about it if she did notice it and Reshma smiled at her and went and sat beside her with her glass of juice.
As much as Daadi and Murad emphasised simple gestures , Zafar wasn’t sure they would cut it. The issues that had come to the surface last night – and, more importantly, the ones that had been alluded to – needed more than an offering of breakfast to be resolved.
He just hoped that while they were here, he could figure out what it would take and be able to successfully deliver it.