Chapter 6
6
‘All we’ve managed to conclude is that Mr Ex is someone we know and probably a fellow student at St Victor’s,’ Abeo said with a scowl.
‘Yes, that’s literally it,’ Chloe replied, eyes fixed on the small mirror in her hand as she reapplied a pink Chanel lip gloss. ‘We should basically suspect all the people in our lives, even our friends.’
‘Hmm,’ Felicity pondered, absent-mindedly playing with her Hermès bracelet. ‘I can’t shake the feeling that he’s really going to come for us this year, just before we all break up for university. I think that’s why he’s trying to reach out to us personally now.’
My stomach did a flip. ‘What do you mean?’
Felicity exchanged a look with Abeo before meeting my eyes. ‘Mr Ex has started sending Abeo and me anonymous texts.’
‘Why didn’t you tell me?’ I asked incredulously.
‘Erm …’ Felicity’s shoulders hitched up in an awkward shrug. ‘You were a little busy?’
I let out a slow breath, irritation boiling under my skin.
‘The texts have been playful so far,’ Abeo explained. ‘Only quips about him knowing where we are, who we’re with – which, to be fair, everyone knows once we get spotted.’
Felicity coughed pointedly. ‘But he seems to know our whereabouts before others do. And … he’s hinted he knows more. Like, secrets. We need to be careful because clearly he’s not holding back on uploading sensitive info.’
‘Has he asked you to do anything for him yet?’ Chloe asked tightly.
The yet echoed in the silence around us, sharp and unwelcome, like a snake slithering its way around our circle, catching each of our necks in its snare.
‘Whatever messages he’s sent, I want to see them,’ I stated squarely. ‘We should try tracing the messages. Here, let me take a look.’
Abeo’s brows shot up and he began adjusting his perfectly positioned silk pocket square. I realized that handing over your phone for someone to look through – giving them access to your private messages and photos and internet history – was like letting them into the deepest corners of your mind. There was a time we’d been so close we’d known everything about each other, but things were different now. I couldn’t pinpoint the exact moment that cracks had formed in our friendship, but they had, and it felt like there was no going back.
‘Is that OK?’ I asked more gently.
There were half-hearted nods and murmurs of agreement. But I knew there would be excuse after excuse when it came down to actually showing me the messages. Perhaps I’d have to wait until Mr Ex reached out to me personally. There were so many ways he could blackmail me, ruin my reputation, destroy everything I’d built. Drawing breath suddenly became difficult; I unbuttoned my shirt further and inhaled deeply. This wasn’t the time or place to lose my calm.
‘He’s getting nastier, isn’t he?’ Sanjay asked tensely. ‘And with the way he keeps learning everything about us, it’s like he’s always one step ahead.’
‘If he wants to keep playing with us, we need to show him that we’re going to win,’ I stated bluntly.
They all looked at me, as though waiting for instructions to follow. It was a situation I was used to.
I looked at their faces.
The diversity. The beauty. The talent.
Even this, I had cherry-picked. A stream of calculated decisions – deciding which of my friends would become members of The Exes. I’d selected the people who commanded attention the moment they walked into a room. The ones everyone loved to look at, speak about, get close to.
My father, Rohaan Malik, was the owner of the Malik Group, a transnational conglomerate with headquarters in all the major cities. He was one of the wealthiest men in the country, and although my mother had a way of coming across as soft and graceful, she was every bit the business shark her husband was. They may not have spent much time raising their children, leaving me with nannies and au pairs, but I’d still picked up my business savvy from them.
The Exes were my circle, my closest friends, and had been for years, but they were also a business decision. I’d been the first to see the potential in us banding together. We offered the real-life version of those sitcoms people grew addicted to – a group of best friends growing up together, experiencing life’s different phases and chasing their dreams.
And just as I’d predicted, we’d blown up. Almost instantaneously.
I stood and buttoned my blazer. ‘I have a family occasion to attend.’
Chloe’s face fell. ‘This is important.’
‘I know, but I’m about to meet my brother’s future wife for the first time. I can’t skip this.’
‘Oh my God,’ Felicity squealed. ‘Another Big Fat Indian Wedding? I loved all the clothes, food and dancing during Priya’s events. Even our followers were obsessed!’
We’d had a blast during Sanjay’s older sister’s summer wedding festivities last year, and the content we’d captured had been a great boost for our platforms.
‘This wedding’s going to be both Indian and Pakistani,’ I said, smiling, ‘so be prepared for one hell of a winter wedding.’
‘They’re getting married this winter?’ Abeo exclaimed. ‘That’s short notice. What’s the rush?’
‘I guess they’re eager to begin their life together. In Islam, they need to get their nikah done before they can start living together and being more open as a couple. They’re allowed to spend time together now but a lot of it is chaperoned, which I’m sure they find frustrating. Besides, I know you’re just worried about the outfits.’ I smirked at Abeo knowingly. ‘Mum will obviously hook us up with the freshest Fouzia Faris drip.’
I gave them a swift nod and made for the exit.
‘Can I talk to you?’ Chloe blurted.
‘Sure,’ I replied politely, even though I really didn’t want to. It just felt wrong to say no to her.
Chloe possessed a sensitive, volatile personality. She could go from being excessively happy about the simplest of things, like having a good cup of tea, to being an emotional mess because of the slightest inconvenience. When we were together, she’d had a way of dragging my mood around with hers. That was certainly something I didn’t miss.
We walked out of earshot and turned to each other.
She wrung her fingers together anxiously. ‘I wanted to apologize one last time and ask whether we can put everything behind us.’
As much as I didn’t want to hurt her, I couldn’t lie. Not about this. ‘This isn’t going to be like those times when everything went back to normal after a day or two. I need time.’
Her eyes filled.
‘I just can’t believe I found out from Sanjay that you reached out to him instead of me. That he’s the one who convinced you to even tell me.’
Chloe couldn’t look me in the eye. ‘But we all go to him when we’re in shit. He’s got this chill, non-judgemental vibe. And I was just so … scared.’
Tears rolled down her face, and I just about kept myself back from brushing them away as I’d done a hundred times before. Anything I said right now would be the wrong thing to say, so I chose silence.
‘We’re scheduled to attend some events together,’ she said, wiping underneath her eyes. ‘Queen Charlotte’s Ball, which is tomorrow. Then there’s London Fashion Week and the Dior Couture Party. Are you still coming with me?’
I remembered all the events we’d enjoyed together over the summer, completely infatuated with each other, drunk on laughter and sunlight.
We’d attended Royal Ascot and Wimbledon, and then escaped to the French Riviera to be alone. Those first few days in Cap-Ferrat had been a dream; we’d decided to ditch our phones completely so we could just be in the moment, something that was usually impossible for Chloe.
We drank champagne, enjoyed panoramic views of the C?te d’Azur from our villa’s rooftop, swam in idyllic coves and read books in the shade of palm trees; we ate at Michelin-starred beach restaurants and spent the nights wrapped up in each other’s arms …
And then, one evening, everything shifted. Chloe became distant.
The following morning I’d woken up alone, every trace of her gone.
She’d texted to let me know she was back in London. I’d been confused and furious, but I’d tried to be understanding, assumed that perhaps something important had cropped up. But as much as I tried to contact her after that, she didn’t respond.
Irritated with her vanishing act, I decided to stay in France alone for a while.
Mere days after I’d returned to London, Sanjay invited me over to speak with him and Chloe at his flat in Notting Hill.
That was when I’d learned the truth: not just that Chloe had been pregnant, but that she’d already had an abortion.
I was shocked. And hurt.
She’d kept me in the dark about something that concerned me so intimately, and what hurt just as much was that Chloe was clearly in the habit of keeping secrets from me. What other things could she possibly be hiding? All this secrecy and lying from someone who had once been my closest confidante was messing with my head.
‘Karim?’ Chloe pressed.
Once the memories started flooding in, they wouldn’t stop. It was as though a fist had clenched around my heart and refused to let go. I had to honour our booked schedules as The Exes, but I didn’t want to push things to go back to normal between us before I was ready.
‘I remember promising to be your escort at Queen Charlotte’s Ball and I’m a man of my word. But everything else … I think it’ll be good for us to get some space from each other.’
Chloe nodded, looking deep in thought. When she met my eyes again, she smiled, and her shoulders relaxed a little.
‘No one looks quite as dashing as you in white tie. People won’t be able to keep their eyes off us.’
It was the kind of thing she used to say before we’d record our couples content. It suddenly became difficult to look at her and, from the way she was avoiding eye contact too, I knew I wasn’t the only one feeling overwhelmed with all the memories we shared.
‘So, I guess I’ll see you tomorrow then,’ she said awkwardly.
I nodded and watched her walk back to the others.
Felicity was demonstrating a new dance routine. Chloe took her blazer off and joined right in, giggling loudly as she messed up a move. As quick as that, she seemed perfectly fine.
It reminded me of just how manipulative and self-serving she could be when she wanted something. Sometimes it was difficult to tell what was real with Chloe, and what was only for the cameras and her personal gain.
‘Ouch, what are you doing?’ Felicity laughed as Chloe messed up another move and twirled right into her.
Abeo snorted. ‘I recorded that. It’ll be good for behind-the-scenes footage.’
It would be a while before I could join in with this sort of content creation again, if I ever managed to talk myself into it. The more time I spent away from it, the more ridiculous it all seemed.
Within seconds, we could block out our emotions, give the fans what they wanted to see, ignore the madness of it all …
And I was really starting to hate it.