The dull clouds roared deafening thunder as driblets began accelerating down the hot ground. It was as if the clouds themselves were frustrated and kept emotions deep within them, saving it for a spare time—a more favourable period for them to explode and let it all go.
Relieved, the fogs stopped splashing approximately in the early hours of sundown. Aabid strolled leisurely to his private automobile, and was nearly getting in not until he accepted a call from the president Jalaludeen himself. He retreated to his workroom at the end of the call—for it was an urgent command.
[To cut a long story short, we have enticed IRM to trade their rations. No need to question me how. Quickly move and acquire them before someone else does. It is in the web page right now. Do it now,]
Aabid perceived it was not gentle persuasion but hanky-panky. Who would abruptly make a decision to split their modest shares in a blink of an eyeball without much thinking regarding it? On the other hand afresh, it is believable—their portion was little anyways; notwithstanding still useful for Al-Taajir enterprise. He whirled on his seat as he watched the bootloader. In a few seconds, he had already logged into his active account. To Aabid's amazement, he obtained nothing on the page. No offers, no active stocks, nothing at all. A blank page. He phoned Jalaludeen's number.
"Father, I haven't seen anything yet—are you sure it is on the page already?"
(What do you mean? I saw it with my own eyes, we were together with the CEO himself. That was 14 minutes ago.)
"I have seen nothing..."
(You were late!)
Jalaludeen terminated the call without adequate notice. On top of that, Aabid perceived it was undoubtedly going to remain a stressful week for him. Unless the story correctly was that the other group changed their minds about the decision. He knew his father was in the key process of catching out who accepted the stocks—and that individual must have been particularly close to him to have even had knowledge of the rare appearance of the trading at such unusual hours; for It was not an official auction. It exist as a favourable moment for Aabid to accumulate influence in the profession. Aabid delayed for incompletely an hour to see if it would come into view. However nothing resulted. He at the end fetched the tablet with him to his vehicle, aiming to carry on once he arrived home.
---
As usual, he was late for dinner. He appeared to avoid the whole family most times. Ma'Fatma, the overall first wife was still in Beijing with Jalaludeen. Semih and Husnah followed her there, lessening the number of people in the mansion.
Aabid had only grabbed a mug when Farida appeared all smiles.
"I hid some bakhlavas for you," she murmured politely, eagerly opening the microwave. "It's still warm, eat it," she put down the savory dish on the kitchen top in front of him. Aabid made a simple acknowledgment and drew a portion, shifting to the direction of the cupboard that occupied the beverage supplies. He shoved it into his jaws, his taste-buds sending signals in addition to inevitably reminding him of former times. He was convinced it was Gul the old cook that made it.
"If you don't disapprove, I would love meeting Saliha on my own," she stated after a while of silence. Aabid looked briefly at her escorted by a bland face as he fixed a cup of tea.
"Why is that?"
"I would like to get to know her to a greater extent. We scarcely chatted the last time," after providing a nervous ha-ha to stave off the awkwardness, she went ahead to get sugary breadstuffs from a different cabinet. "This would move tasty accompanied by your drink,"
"No, the bakhlavas are enough, Farida. Thank you for all this too," he simply stated and turned to leave. "You meeting up with Saliha has nothing to do with me," he added and left her standing cold in the kitchen.
Farida had dearly missed the brother-sister relationship she used to have with Aabid. She had always looked up to him—she was the closest to him, for they spent more time together before her siblings were born.
Looking around, Farida felt disgraced by Aabid. But she did not change her mind on meeting up with Saliha. The idea had come to her early that morning. She imagined how Saliha must have felt—not hearing anything from Aabid's side. She had Zara's contact anyway and therefore could contact Saliha through Zara although she was skeptical about it. Something made her feel uncomfortable towards Zara.
She had fortunately caught her eyeballing at her wristwatch several whiles, glancing foxily at her elder relative (ma'Hanan) and then frowning when she gazed in the direction of Saliha's side. Farida perceived Zara to be a brainbox in rapidly transforming her expressions. However she was a smart lady—she comprehended the distinct kind of being Zara possibly was.
-
Shutting the door behind, Aabid settled inside his chamber, speedily taking a seat on his study. He commenced monitoring the web page to see if he would discover the transaction offer. He sipped the drink then munched on the bakhlavas well. Aabid understood quite well that if not for Farida, they all would have consumed it without sparing some for him.
Subsequently his reflections moved to Saliha and the total happenings that occurred throughout their first meeting. He agreed she looked a great deal remarkable compared to the photograph he was handed. She was better-looking out—not that her beauty excited him. In terms of her coolness, he gave her a B-. But one thing he was aware of was that her interaction expertise was deficient. She with difficulty invoked a confabulation. She hesitated at some points when responding to him.
He devoured the last slice of bakhlava and downed his tea, stretching on his seat. The condition that disturbed him at the moment was purely the Sale offer. He attempted to put aside his thinkings off the Loharani household however his mind was stubborn regarding it.
Aabid did not fail to notice how manipulative Zara was towards Saliha—because she kept glancing at her, as if she was scared about Zara doing something. He knitted his brows at the realities he was able to make, as he hugely detested foxy persons. He could relate to that. But taking everything into account, he knew Saliha was not a character he could only dislike without knowing much about her. He felt he had to comprehend more regarding her, for she possessed a curious identity he sometimes runs across. Furthermore, he was powerless to discover what precisely made him feel such inquisitiveness towards her.
After watching a few skits concerning engineering, he shifted to the washroom to perform wudoo. He held a practice of compiling the last two daily supplications prior to retiring to bed.
On the prayer mat, he stared at the plain wall in front of him, slightly wondering if he was to feel guilty for being a bit cold to Farida precisely an hour ago. Aabid knew he hardly had been on a 5 minutes conversation with her ever since he landed in Istanbul. Although they had beautiful memories together of sibling-hood, a lot happened and as time went on; their closeness faded due to the long-distance between them. The man made up his mind to give Farida a satisfactory consent to meet up with Saliha.
He approached his phone, scrolled down the list and dialed Saliha's number, knowing it was a late hour and she might have been asleep.
(Peace be upon you.) a soft tone greeted. Aabid mentioned nothing, interested to discover what she was going to do if she got no answer. (Peace be upon you) she droned one more time. (I am unable to detect who is talking.)
"Am I speaking with Saliha?" he asked, his expression containing a lofty standard of confidence.
There exist a prolonged hesitation before she spoke. (Sure, you are,)
"This is Aabid Jalaludeen; I believe we met a week earlier."
A long breathing space. (Oh! Yes. Yes of course,) she nearly pitched her sound. He could understand the enthusiasm from her side.
"Good. My sister says she would cherish to come across you another time. That very scene. 4pm tomorrow." It was a demand he was aware of rather well she would not decline.
"I would love to meet her as well. God willing," she replied with a sleepy tone.
"Do not fail your appointment," and therewith, he exited the call, proceeded to his bed and aimed not to think.
At the moment he was entirely sure she spoke confidently and fluently in an american intonation. His imagination wandered to what she possibly may have been carrying out at that time of night.
The thoughts were cut in so shortly by his egoistical emotions which desired not her but a lady named Violet who was at that period celebrating her way into an expensive buffet to meet up with an aristocrat-date.