Chapter 40
CHAPTER 40
AZARA
I was on my fifth rewatch—today—of my favorite Samia Farès film when a loud bang rattled my door.
I’d planned on ignoring it, seeing as I hadn’t ordered anything or was expecting anyone, but then Nakia’s voice bellowed from outside my flat.
“Azara, open up. We know you’re in there.”
I lunged for the remote, hastily muting the TV, hoping I’d done it quickly enough to make them think I wasn’t home.
It had been five days since I’d lost the medical director position and I’d been dodging their texts ever since. I knew they’d been worried about me after I’d broken the news to them, but I hadn’t wanted to talk about it.
And I still didn’t.
After leaving Amanar that evening, I’d gone straight home and had jumped into bed until I’d had to get up the next morning, put on a brave face and go to work pretending as if nothing had happened.
Everyone at the hospital had tried their best to put on cheerful faces around me, but I’d heard their sympathetic whispers and had caught their sidelong glances whenever I walked into the ward or an operating room.
And I hated being pitied.
I hadn’t gotten the job I’d dreamed of since I’d first started out as a surgeon.
But fiha kheir ? 1 . One closed door didn’t mean it was the end for all.
At least, that’s what I’d been trying to convince myself of over the last few days.
Until today.
Today, I’d wanted nothing more than to fuse myself to this couch, sit in complete darkness, binge films and eat my weight in food—well, until my blood sugar said otherwise.
I froze and held my breath, the silence stretching out until Nakia’s voice rang through the door again, louder this time.
“Azara, don’t make me break down this door.”
I groaned, dropping the remote. Nakia was strong and could definitely hurt someone twice her size, and while she wouldn’t actually be able to break down the door, she’d keep going until I gave in.
With a sigh, I slowly rose from where I’d spent the last ten hours, the faint glow from the TV casting a dim-lighted path to my front door. I cracked it open, just enough to see Nakia and Hazel’s concerned faces staring back at me. Before I could say anything, Nakia shoved past me, Hazel quietly following behind her with a shy smile.
“Why are you sitting in the dark?” Nakia asked, already making her way through my apartment, flicking on every light she could find.
I winced from the onslaught of harsh lights. “Because I can,” I muttered, quickly squeezing my eyes shut.
I waited a bit for the sting to subside, before finally opening them to find both of my best friends standing in the middle of my living room.
But what I hadn't noticed before was the three large garment bags Nakia was holding and the oversized tote slung over Hazel’s shoulder.
“What is that?” I asked, a little wary.
“What we’re doing tonight,” Nakia replied with a sly grin.
“Which is…?” I placed one hand on my hip, the other cupping my mouth.
“We’re going to the masquerade ball.”
“No.”
“Yes.”
“No, I’m not going anywhere,” I shot back, motioning to my previous, comfortable Saturday night set up of snacks, blankets, and a half-empty bottle of wine on the coffee table. I wasn’t scheduled back for work until Monday and had planned to not move from that spot until then. “As you can see, I already had plans,”
“You were sulking,” Nakia deadpanned, tilting her head to the side.
“I was not—” Nakia shot me a look, silencing my retort.
“Fine,” I muttered, slumping my shoulders. “I was sulking, but I’m still not going anywhere.”
I crossed my arms in defiance, but Nakia wasn’t having any of it.
“Besides,” I added, trying one last time to make my case, “I have nothing to wear.”
“Then it’s a good thing I came prepared,” she said smugly.
I sighed. “Look, as much as that sounds like a brilliant idea”—it didn’t—“I’d much rather stay home.”
“And we’d much prefer you come with us,” Hazel chimed in, her voice soft but insistent. “We won’t ask you to talk about what happened, because you’ll bite our head off, so we’ll wait until you’re ready. But we can’t, in good conscience, let you morph into this…” she trailed off, glancing down at my clothes and around my apartment, scrunching up her face.
My place isn’t that bad , I thought to myself as my eyes quickly scanned the living area. But then I grimaced when I spotted the mountain of dishes in the sink, the takeaway boxes and empty snack wrappers littering the coffee table in the living room, some of it even scattered onto the floor.
“I’ve just been busy with work,” I grumbled, lying to defend myself.
I hadn’t found the energy to do much other than work, eat and sleep. Even showering had been optional these days.
Nakia exchanged a look with Hazel before shooting me a pointed stare. “Hazel’s being nice, but I will drag you out of here if you don’t change into this amazing gown I’m letting you borrow,” she said, thrusting one of the garment bags at me with far more force than necessary.
She let go too quickly, and I barely managed to catch it before it hit the floor.
I let out a heavy, resigned sigh, then as a last-ditch effort, I reluctantly brought up the one and really only reason I wasn’t going anywhere near that ball. “Michael will probably be there.”
The mention of his name hung in the air for a moment, thick with the weight of everything I’d been avoiding. Although whispers of him often brushed against the edges of my thoughts, I’d done a pretty good job at ignoring them.
It helped that I hadn’t seen him since I’d walked out of that conference room five days ago. As soon as he’d been appointed by the board as the new medical director of our department, he’d stuck himself into my father’s former office to deal with what my father had left behind. The interim replacement had only been able to do so much, so now Michael was expected to clean up the rest.
Or at least, that’s what I’d overheard my team talking about right before I’d walked into surgery.
“So what if he’s there?” Nakia said, her voice carrying a hint of disdain. I hoped for Michael’s sake, he never had to face her or she’d probably murder him. “You’re going to hide in here because of him? Azara, my love, fuck him and not in the ‘he’s the hot doctor’ way this time.”
Hazel let out a nervous laugh, and I rolled my eyes at Nakia’s remark.
“I’m not hiding,” I lied, though deep down I knew I was. Avoiding him meant I didn’t have to be reminded of everything that went wrong. “You know I don’t love those events, and watching Samia Farès play a woman infiltrating the family who killed her twin sister is far more entertaining than a high-society ball.”
“You’re coming,” Nakia persisted, ignoring my objections entirely. She draped the other garment bags on my dining table—the only piece of furniture left unscathed—and pointed at Hazel.
“Get her ready while I take care of this mess.”
“Nakia,” I protested, looking to Hazel for support, but she merely shrugged. I stood firmly in place, staring Nakia down, but I knew it was pointless.
When Nakia set her mind on something, it was a lost cause to fight against her decision. That woman was as stubborn as they come and always got what she wanted.
I let out a long breath, defeated. “Fine, I’ll go,” I muttered. “But you owe me,” I finished, wagging a finger at her.
“Yeah, yeah. Now off you go,” she said, dismissing me. She pulled her short goddess braids back with a claw clip and got to work loading my dishwasher.
“I hate you,” I replied.
Nakia’s booming laughter was my only response before Hazel grabbed my hand and tugged me downstairs toward my ensuite bathroom.
Seeing Michael wasn’t on my list of priority, but I shouldn’t let his potential presence dictate how I went on with my life.
Like Nakia had said, so what if he was here?
‘So what’ had been a terrible idea.
We’d just walked into the ballroom, and already, I was regretting my decision to come. There were too many people, too many noises, and just too much of everything.
The ballroom itself was unlike anything I’d ever seen. Ivy and delicate vines snaked their way along the walls, and lush plants lined the perimeter, their deep greens and soft hues creating a breathtaking backdrop.
And the giant three-tier marble fountain centerpiece was truly what stole the show. Water gently cascaded into a beautifully crafted stone basin, the surface dotted with floating lotus flowers, while vines weaved around each tier.
Yet, although the atmosphere was meant to be serene, my nerves crackled inside my body like a live wire.
I longed for the comfort of my mountain of blankets and cheap red wine as we threaded through the parting sea of guests who’d adhered to the Botanical Garden theme with their exquisite floral gowns, and tailored linen suits, their faces hidden behind ornate masks of petals, vines and some even had butterfly designs weaved into them.
We were stopped by a few guests as we made our way to the bar, each one offering compliments and asking who’d designed our gowns. Nakia did all the talking, as she’d gotten them for us, praising the merits of Britain’s most talented up-and-coming designer, Natalia Armas.
Each dress had been inspired by a different flower and designed with it in mind—tulips for Hazel, orchids for Nakia and wisterias for me. The structured bodices of our dresses were each intricately embroidered with the respective blooms, which then seamlessly cascaded into layers of tulle that mimicked their soft, flowing petals.
The gowns had been so meticulously crafted, I almost felt guilty wearing mine. They looked like pieces of art and would normally cost a fortune, but Nakia’s grandmother had been the Spanish designer's mentor ever since a serendipitous encounter at Lalla ? 2 Latifah’s shop a few years back when Natalia had moved here.
When we finally reached the bar that had been transformed into a secret oasis with an ivy-covered backdrop, I let out a sigh of relief.
It was empty save for an older couple sitting at the far end because most guests didn’t bother with waiting at the bar since servers impeccably dressed in various shades of greens circulated around the room with gin and herb-infused cocktails served in pastel-colored tumblers and champagne flutes.
“See? This isn’t so bad,” Nakia said, after ordering us one of the infused cocktails they were offering.
I shot her a glare, though under the intricate mask I wore, designed to match the wisterias on my dress, I wasn’t sure it came across quite as I’d intended it.
“How long do we have to stay for?” I groaned, leaning my forearms against the sleek, polished wood of the bar that was covered in soft green moss, fairy lights woven through it and casting a soft glow over its surface.
“We’ve only been here for ten minutes,” Nakia deadpanned.
“And yet it’s felt like hours, so my question still stands.”
Nakia rolled her eyes just as Hazel placed a gentle hand on my right arm. “Look we can leave anytime you want, but just try it, yeah?” she said with a comforting smile, her deep dimples making an appearance.
I could never bring myself to say no to her when she looked at me like that.
“Okay,” I sighed just as the bartender returned with our drinks. Hazel’s light brown eyes sparkled with triumph before we each grabbed our respective drinks and turned to face the crowd.
Watching the rich mingle amongst each other was always a fascinating spectacle, but tonight, unlike last year, I found no amusement in it. Even when Hazel and Nakia started gossiping on either side of me, I couldn’t bring myself to join in.
Instead, I sipped on my drink and swayed side to side to the different orchestral renditions of some of this year’s hits and older R common Moroccan term of respect for an elder