Rihaan #2
“Well, we are going to Edinburgh, and that is a seven hour drive.”
Her shoulders dropped. “Let me pack a bag.”
“Good girl.”
She rolled her eyes. “Oh, kiss my arse, Patel.”
I smiled for the first time since I’d entered the place. “Sure, bend over and I’ll do just that.”
She gave me the finger, and my laugh followed her as she left her room.
THE FIRST THING I DID once we got back on the road was open my laptop.
Maeve sat curled into the passenger seat, one knee drawn up slightly, her blonde hair falling over one shoulder as she navigated through her banking apps on the small screen I'd managed to project across to the laptop. The glow from it painted her face in soft, shifting light—blue-white, clinical, almost too bright for how quiet she’d gone.
There was a stillness to her now that hadn’t been there before. Something tighter. Contained. Like she was holding herself together with the same focus she was using to type.
“Okay,” I said, turning the screen towards her. “Which ones?”
“All of them.”
“That narrows it down beautifully.”
She gave me a tired look, but there was no real bite in it. Just exhaustion sitting behind her eyes like a weight she hadn’t put down yet.
“My debit cards. Both.”
I clicked through the forms while she read the details aloud, her voice steadying only when she was giving instructions. It was easier for her that way—I could tell. Facts. Steps. Things that didn’t require her to sit inside what had just happened.
“Freeze them first. Then report stolen.”
“Already doing it.”
“You’re very bossy.”
“I’m currently the one whose entire bank account was nearly robbed.”
“Fair.”
There had been email waiting for her that told her about a declined payment when she’d logged in.
Then her thumb moved again, faster now, almost mechanical, switching between apps on her phone in the mirrored screen on my laptop. She double-checked numbers twice before letting me input anything, like if she didn’t verify it enough times, something worse might slip through.
I noticed the bruise on her wrist again.
Darker now than it had been earlier. Angry against her skin.
I looked away before she could catch me staring.
Once that was done, we drove for forty minutes before we arrived on the motor way, the road opening into a cluster of service stations and restaurants, the kind that always looked the same no matter which one you stopped at.
Fluorescent lights. Wet tarmac. The smell of fuel and fried food mixing in the air.
I glanced at the sign, one shop in particular catching my eye, making me switch lanes.
“You hungry?”
She nodded, as I pulled in. The engine ticked as it cooled, the silence inside the car suddenly louder than the road had been.
I looked over at her. “Want to come in, or want me to grab something?”
She hesitated, eyes flicking briefly to the window, then back to me. “I’ll come. I need to freshen up.”
“Okay, let’s go.”
We stepped inside together, and instantly the warmth hit us like a wall.
Too bright. Too clean. Too many people moving in too many directions, none of them aware of anything that had just happened in the world outside this building.
Maeve paused just inside the door, blinking slightly as if she had to re-calibrate to the noise.
She pointed towards the corridor. “I’ll meet you in the café.”
I took out my wallet. “Get whatever you want, I’ll pick up some snacks for the road and extra bits.”
She looked at the card I held out.
“I have my own.”
“Your cards are currently being frozen.”
That made her pause. Like just for a second, she’d forgotten all about it.
She took it silently. Her fingers brushed mine briefly, and I felt it—how cold she still was, even in this heat.
I watched the corner of her mouth lift. “What?”
“Nothing.”
“You looked pleased.”
“I was wondering what stupid thing I could spend your money on, and get away with it.”
“Please don’t buy a private jet.”
“No promises.”
And then she was gone, disappearing down the corridor toward the bathrooms, shoulders slightly hunched like she was trying to make herself smaller in a place that didn’t care whether she existed or not.
I stood there for a moment longer than necessary, almost like no part of me was ready to take my eyes off her. Afraid she’d disappear, or worse, get hurt again.
When she disappeared completely, I made my way through the service stations, grabbing the snacks I’d promised her, along with the her favourite ones, before pausing at the shop that had me visit the place itself.
Fifteen minutes later, I found her the cafe with two hot drinks in her hand. Noticing my wave, she quickly made her way to me as I ushered her into the car.
I turned the heater up the moment she climbed in, watching her shoulders ease almost immediately as the warmth filled the space.
She tucked her legs beneath herself, curling into the seat like she was trying to reclaim something soft after too much sharpness. Both hands wrapped around the cup, fingers slowly regaining colour.
“Here, I got you a latte. I actually don’t know how you take them.”
“Coffee is Coffee,” I replied easily, taking the cup from her. “I’ll take it anyway. Thanks.”
She nodded like she understood.
“Here.”
She frowned as I handed her a small bag, “What did you buy?”
“Road supplies.”
She let out a quiet laugh, the first real sound I’d heard from her since the flat. “You went slightly overboard.”
“Probably.” Reaching across the bag, I pulled out one important thing. “All essentials, though.”
A boxed phone.
She stopped completely.
The air in the car shifted. “No.”
“Yes.”
“Rihaan.”
“Your phone was smashed.”
“I can replace it.”
“You can.” She turned it over in her hands slowly, like she didn’t quite trust it to be real. “So why did you?”
I shrugged. “Because you need one, and it would probably take ages for your card to arrive. You can’t go however long you decide to stay with me in a cabin, without a phone?”
Her fingers tightened around the box.
She looked down at it for a long moment.
Then back at me.
“You got the newest one.”
“Yeah.”
“You’re ridiculous.”
“I’ve been told.”
She stared at it again.
And for a second—just a second—I thought she might break in a way I wouldn’t be able to fix.
But she didn’t.
She just held it tighter.
Then I reached into the bag one final time.
She frowned immediately. “What now?”
I handed her a thin book.
She looked at the cover.
Then at me.
101 Completely Unnecessary Facts About the World’s Strangest Animals
Her mouth fell open.
I couldn’t help it—I smiled. There was something dangerously rewarding about making her happy and knowing I was the one who put that expression on her face.
“You’re kidding.”
“You like random facts.”
“I do.”
“And we’ve got a long drive ahead of us. This way you can keep yourself distracted. Plus, if there’s anything that too interesting, now you’ve got your phone to help you look it up.”
She ran her thumb over the cover, slower now, like she was trying to understand why something so small had been chosen so carefully.
“This is… oddly specific.”
“I know.”
Her laugh came quieter this time.
Less forced.
More real.
It softened something in her face I hadn’t realised had been locked tight until it moved.
She opened the book.
Flipped a page.
Then another.
“Why animals?”
“I figured you needed something more cheerful than your bank statements.”
That got a proper look from her.
Not tired.
Not distant.
Just her.
Then she looked back down at the book, and when she spoke, it had been barely a whisper. “Thank you.”
I started the car again. “You’re welcome.”
She smiled into the pages, thumb already tracing the first fact like she was anchoring herself to something that didn’t hurt.
And for the first time since I’d found her on that floor, the silence between us didn’t feel like something breaking.
It felt like something holding.