CHAPTER TWELVE
“The walls we build.”
Monday arrived with grey skies and relentless rain.
Zara stood beneath the awning outside Bellamy & Co., watching people hurry through the downpour with umbrellas tilted against the wind.
New York looked beautiful in the rain.
Messy.
Busy.
Alive.
Her phone buzzed.
Malik: Don't forget your umbrella today.
She smiled before replying.
Zara: Too late. I already forgot it.
His response came almost instantly.
Malik: Five minutes.
She frowned.
Zara: Five minutes for what?
No reply.
Exactly five minutes later, a black Range Rover pulled up outside the office.
Malik stepped out holding a large black umbrella.
He crossed the pavement and stopped in front of her.
"You actually came."
"You said you forgot your umbrella."
"I thought you were joking."
"I wasn't."
He held the umbrella over both of them.
"Come on."
"Where are we going?"
"I'm taking you to work."
"I'm already at work."
He looked up at the building.
"Fair point."
She laughed.
"I meant... coffee."
"I've got ten minutes before my first meeting."
"So do I."
There was something wonderfully ordinary about it.
No luxury restaurant.
No glamorous gala.
Just two people sharing coffee on a rainy Monday morning.
The café across the street was warm and smelled of fresh pastries.
The barista greeted Malik by name.
"The usual?"
"Please."
He looked at Zara.
"And whatever she's having."
"I can order for myself."
"I know."
"You keep saying that."
"Because you keep reminding me."
She smiled.
"I'll have a vanilla latte."
The barista nodded.
"You two make a cute couple."
Both of them answered at exactly the same time.
"We're not a couple."
The barista raised an eyebrow.
"Sure."
As they carried their drinks to a table by the window, Zara laughed.
"That was embarrassing."
"A little."
"You didn't have to answer so quickly."
"You beat me to it."
She looked at him over the rim of her cup.
"Were you disappointed?"
He didn't answer straight away.
Instead, he watched the rain sliding down the window.
"I've learned not to rush good things."
The honesty in his voice made her heart beat just a little faster.
They talked for almost an hour.
Work.
Books.
Music.
The best places to eat in Brooklyn.
The conversation flowed effortlessly.
At one point Malik asked,
"What's something nobody knows about you?"
She thought for a moment.
"I sing."
His eyebrows lifted.
"You sing?"
"I used to."
"What happened?"
"I stopped."
"Why?"
She looked down at her coffee.
"My mother said I wasn't good enough."
The words came out quietly.
Matter-of-fact.
As if she'd repeated them so many times they no longer hurt.
Malik leaned back in his chair.
"Did you believe her?"
"For years."
"And now?"
"I don't know."
He studied her for a moment.
"I think someone convinced you that criticism was love."
Zara looked away.
"No one had ever said it like that."
He didn't reach for her hand.
He didn't try to comfort her.
He simply let the silence exist.
It was exactly what she needed.
That evening, Zara stayed late at the office preparing proposals for an upcoming charity auction.
By the time she finished, the building was almost empty.
She stepped into the lift and pressed the ground floor button.
Just before the doors closed, someone slipped inside.
Malik.
"You stalking me now?"
He smiled.
"I had a meeting upstairs."
"So you keep saying."
"It keeps being true."
The lift began its slow descent.
For a moment neither of them spoke.
Then the lights flickered.
The lift stopped.
Completely.
Zara looked up.
"...Tell me that's normal."
"It isn't."
The emergency lights came on, bathing the small space in a soft amber glow.
She pressed the alarm button.
Nothing happened immediately.
"I hate lifts," she admitted.
Malik looked at her.
"You claustrophobic?"
"A little."
Her breathing became shallower.
The walls suddenly felt closer.
The air heavier.
Malik noticed.
"Hey."
She looked at him.
"Look at me."
She did.
"Take a slow breath."
"I'm trying."
"I know."
He kept his voice calm.
"Count with me."
"In for four."
She inhaled.
"Hold."
She held it.
"Out for six."
Gradually, the tightness in her chest eased.
"There you go."
She managed a weak smile.
"You've done this before."
"A few times."
"With the kids?"
He nodded.
"And with myself."
She looked at him curiously.
"You get panic attacks?"
"I used to."
The admission surprised her.
"You?"
He gave a small shrug.
"Prison changes people."
The words landed between them.
Heavy.
Real.
He didn't elaborate.
She didn't ask.
A loud clunk echoed above them.
The lift jolted gently before beginning to move again.
A few seconds later, the doors opened onto the lobby.
Zara let out a relieved breath.
"I never thought I'd be so happy to see reception."
They walked outside together.
The rain had stopped.
The streets glistened beneath the city lights.
"Thank you," she said quietly.
"For what?"
"For not making me feel stupid."
"You weren't."
"I know."
She smiled.
"But thank you anyway."
When Zara arrived home, she found Miss Claudette watering the plants on the front steps.
"How was your day?"
"Unexpected."
"Good unexpected?"
"I got stuck in a lift."
Miss Claudette looked concerned.
"Were you alone?"
Zara hesitated.
"No."
"Malik was there."
Miss Claudette smiled knowingly.
"And?"
"He stayed calm."
"He helped."
"He didn't try to rescue me."
"He just..."
She searched for the right word.
"...stayed."
Miss Claudette nodded.
"The right people don't always solve your problems."
"They remind you that you don't have to face them alone."
Zara thought about that long after she'd gone upstairs.
Later that night she stood at her bedroom window, looking out across the rooftops of Brooklyn.
Her phone buzzed.
Malik: You did well today.
She smiled.
Zara: I spent five minutes convincing myself the lift was going to fall.
His reply came almost immediately.
Malik: Maybe.
Another message followed.
Malik: But it didn't.
Zara stared at the screen.
Then she typed the words that surprised even her.
Zara: I'm glad you were there.
She watched the three dots appear.
Disappear.
Then appear again.
Finally, his message arrived.
Malik: So am I.
She placed the phone on her bedside table and lay back on the bed.
For the first time in years, she wasn't wondering whether someone would leave.
She was wondering what it might feel like to let someone stay.
Outside, Brooklyn settled into another quiet night.
Inside, the walls around Zara's heart had cracked just a little wider.
And neither she nor Malik realised how soon life would test whether those walls were ready to come down.