Amira's POV
I've got everything under control. At least, that's what I'd like to think.
With a file tucked under my arm, I make my way out of my office, into the white marble lobby, as if what I was about to do meant strictly business. It was business, I reminded myself. Just, a little personal of nature. Much more bloody, too.
Just when I was walking over to the receptionist, I saw a girl waiting in one of the seats, pouring over the blue folder in her hand, probably here for an interview. Normally, I wouldn't pay much attention to people volunteering for jobs in the office department, because there weren't any useful jobs available around the office, at least they didn't seem so useful to me. But something about this girl drew me in.
Maybe it was her perfect form that was petite yet curvy, or the way she carried herself, so sure about her steps yet so uncertain about herself. She looked so small, so innocent, and so vulnerable. But there was a certain fire in her eyes, strength like no other, like an unchallenged determination waiting to be let free.
"Jala," I caught her name, rolling of her tongue like honey as she spoke to the receptionist. Almost hypnotized by her presence, I proceeded towards her. "I was told that I had an interview due with Miss Amira, this afternoon."
A "web" in our native tongue, and clarity in Arabic.
"Not today?" A frown etched over her pretty features as the news was delivered to her, and I almost felt guilty for the timing I chose to perform the deed. "But why?"
"Is there something I can help you with?" I caught her off guard, but not as much as I was as I took in her appearance.
You've got to be kidding me. Those doe hazel eyes that widened in surprise, full lips, small nose and perfectly sculpted facial structure were that I had watched countless times, subconsciously waiting for the time I would meet this face in person. Those eyes held a fire so captivating that you wanted to reach out, even if it meant burning yourself.
Her luscious lips quirked slightly upwards, like she knew the effect she had on me, like she knew this meeting was meant to be. "The time I was given for the interview was 2 pm, and it's 3 now. Should I think this means rejection?" She had an edge in her voice like she knew something I did not.
"Not at all," I said more desperately than I intended to. "My personal secretary is in his office. If he deems you sufficient for the job, then I won't have any qualms of keeping you in the office. Inform Mr. Amin about this appointment." I told the receptionist. "I look forward to working with you Ms. Jala." I gave her a small smile before walking toward the exit.
A gush of warm air welcomed me, and I closed my eyes briefly as the sunlight hit my face. The setting sun is bright and beautiful; its farewell into the evening sky brings a fateful night for a certain someone. Not for me, though. For me, it's a fulfillment of my promise to my late mother.
I get into my car and head for my house, the journey longer and heavier than I can remember. Palm trees, rocky pavements and the sky become blurs of blue, white, green and grey as I zoom my way through to the Secretariat, the residential colony of bureaucrats, politicians and most of the people who work for the government in the city as well as those who can afford it. The colony takes up half of the city's area, and is further divided into sections using alphabets where various ministries are scattered throughout the area, giving ample time to white collared criminals to enjoy air conditioned rooms and expensive snacks while making small talk with their party companions. It infuriates me to no extent, and so we tried cutting down these expenses but received only backlash from not only the opposition and the media, but criticism from within the party, terming them as "naïve" and "childish".
The iron gates of the colony are thrown wide open for my car, as well as the line of cars behind me accompanying me as part of the protocol, allowing us to pass through. The guards give me a respectful nod as I my car pass through the gate, even though I highly doubt they can see me. The fact that I am part of the government is enough for me to earn them my respect. It doesn't seem fair to me and I turn my head away in disgust as the car slows down giving me the opportunity to look at the opulent buildings lining the road, remembering how they were made in the first place.
Stepping out into the porch, I take in a deep breath of fragrant air, a fair share of pot plants lining the marble staircase, as I make my way into the house. The living room is empty as always, the pristine and grandeur of the furniture, making it look like a house newly furnished for sale. After letting my eyes wander around for a while, I allow myself to proceed towards the study instead of my bedroom. The fact that I did not remember the last time I saw my father or had an actual conversation with him disturbed me greatly, and gave enough courage to confront him.
The door was left slightly ajar, allowing me a sneak-peak into the room. Holding my breath, I pushed the door slightly and heard faint music coming from the room.
"Vekh chhallaan paindiyan na chadden dil ve
Haan laike khil ve
Ajj mahiwaal nou main jana mil ve
Haan aiho dil ve"
"Look, the waves are splashing higher and higher
but don't lose heart
so help transport me there
I must go to meet Mahiwal this night at any cost
yes, my heart insists on going"
Sheru, our golden retriever, might have caught a whiff of my scent, and so came bounding and leaping on his big furry feet, and throwing the door wide open in the process. I patted him generously and gave him a good rub leaning down as he was too heavy to pick up, and carefully proceeded into the room. Father's office chair was still turned away, but I knew he was there from his hand that rested on the arm rest and held a lit cigar, while a wisp of smoke floated on the top of his head, his silver –gray hair peeking from above the outline of the chair.
"So you have found your way back home," he remarked sarcastically, after taking another puff of his cigar.
"I always have, father," I replied, raising myself from the leaning position. "It is you, who seems to forget what you once stood up for."
"You're still naïve, daughter. It is going to take you awhile to wake up from your little dreams of changing the world and face the real world of politics." I walk over to his side of the table to face him, and he looks up at me, a tired, old man with a condescending smile on his face. "You will face situations where you will question not only your motives, but also your sanity. Your very core of existence."
"You're drunk, father," I snort sarcastically, matching his tone. He turns away from me, a sour expression on his face and took a sip of wine from his glass. I don't know how we became estranged, when we shared the same dreams for our nation. Maybe I do, but I'm not willing to accept.
She was the glue holding us together, the edifice that gave us strength to stay united despite our differences, and reminded us of what we stood for. And that strength was brutally snatched away from us, in that awful accident.
"Stay strong Amira, my princess," she said cupping my cheek in her cold palm.
Tonight is the night I avenge this estrangement, the untimely parting. Tonight is the night for vengeance.
Amin's POV
"Send her in," I tell the receptionist. Taking a sip of my black coffee, I lean back against my chair.
This might be one of their tactics to get to know us better. That doesn't mean we can't use them to our advantage.
Her porcelain white skin gleams in the sunlight, as she walks in through the door, her glossy, caramel brown hair swaying around her bare shoulders. Half of her hair is pulled back, so that nothing obscures the near-perfect structure of her small face, her eyes glowing golden in the sunlight. Her gait is confident yet shy, just as she manages to look as soft as the wind but just as cataclysmic.
"Sir?" she addresses me, her voice soft and melodious. "I had a meeting scheduled with Ms. Amira, but she said that my interview will be with you, instead."
"Hmm," I say, as if completely unfazed by her beauty. "Please, sit down." I gesture her to the chair in front of me. Her beautifully shaped torso catches my eye, and my gaze lingers on her full breasts for a brief moment, framed by her prominent collar bones and slim waist.
"She had to leave for a particularly annoying errand that kept popping up and disrupting her routinely affairs," I tell her to ease her tension. She puts the file in front of me, like it would be of any use here. "You do realize Ms. Jala that this isn't like any other job that you have done before or will do in the future?"
"Yes, sir," she replies, determinedly, any nerves that she showed before dissipating completely as she realizes the seriousness of the question.
"Privacy is our top priority," I continued. "You must realize the importance of the national responsibility being handed over to you. All affairs at work must be kept private, even from the ones closest to you, not only for the sake of your safety, but also theirs. It is better for them to stay in the dark, rather than face the light, which will be nothing but blinding."
She looks momentarily taken aback, before composing herself. "I understand, sir."
"I hope you also understand that privacy is a trait of loyalty, which comes from trust from those you acquaint yourself with. There will be times when your loyalty will be tested. Not by us, but our rivals. If you fail, you will be responsible for the consequences."
I expected her to be running out of the office by now, or become unconscious out of fear. "I understand sir." She repeats once more, her voice composed as I she hadn't received a threat.
I lean back once more, withholding a pen in one hand and tapped it against the surface of the table.
"Now, what if we extend this interview? Take it outside … Put your loyalty to the test?"
"I thought attesting my loyalty was a job left for the enemies?" she asks in a inquiring tone, raising her eyebrow.
"What if I am the enemy?" I reply after a moment's hesitation. Her eyes widen in surprise at my sudden remark, a potential confession "What if we forget our standings rivals or supporters, our purposes, what we stand for, what we live for, and experience what it's actually like to live, just for a little while?"
A small laugh escapes her pretty mouth before she exclaims: "Well, Mr. Amin, are you asking me out on a date?"
"What if I am?" I can't help but smile myself.
"Well, then Mr. Amin," She props an elbow on the table and leans forward on her palm, a coy smile gracing her luscious lips. "Consider me intrigued."