Jessica sat on the plush bed in the hotel room, enveloped in the warm glow of lights that adorned the space. The television hummed softly, casting a gentle glow on her face as she waited for Prof. Syed.
The room exuded an ambiance of luxury, with its tasteful decor and muted colors creating a serene atmosphere. The curtains were drawn, allowing a glimpse of the city lights outside, shimmering like distant stars. The room, booked exclusively by him through the connection of his friend who owned the hotel, bore traces of familiarity. It had become their rendezvous point for their special 'private meetings', a place where the outside world faded away.
Jessica, glancing at the clock on the wall, noted the passing time. Prof. Syed had instructed her to meet him here, yet an hour had elapsed, and he was yet to arrive. The soft ticking of the clock seemed to echo the seconds slipping away.
Time passed. And the click of the door unlocking by a key drew Jessica's attention. She turned towards the entrance, and there stood Prof. Syed, finally arriving.
"I've been waiting for you since the evening, and now you decide to show up." Jessica greeted him with a mild irritation.
Prof. Syed, wearing a rueful smile, explained, "Traffic jam, my dear. It's the bane of my existence."
He came and settled beside Jessica on the bed.
Jessica sighed, "Always the traffic. You need a helicopter or something."
"I'll consider it for our next meeting. How about that?" Prof. Syed replied adjusting his glasses.
Jessica switched off the TV remote and looked at Prof. Syed. "Well, make it up to me," she teased.
Prof. Syed moved closer, "And how do you suggest I do that?"
Jessica's lips curled into a smile, "Maybe with dinner, something you owe me for making me wait."
Prof. Syed agreed, "Deal. I'll order the best dinner this hotel has to offer. So, how's Farah doing? What's she up to?"
"She's the same, you know. Nothing out of the ordinary. Evenings are reserved for her boyfriend Elara. Then it's back to the apartment, hitting the books for exams. The usual routine." Jessica continued, "Zeba, Noor....."
Prof. Syed interrupted her, "I'm only interested in Farah. Don't care much about the others."
"Of course, only Farah matters. The rest of us are just background noise." Jessica played along.
Prof. Syed reached into his bag and pulled out two hidden cameras and presented them to Jessica. Her eyes widened in surprise as she regarded the unexpected items.
"What are these for?" Jessica asked with a hint of curiosity.
"Attach them to Farah's attached bathroom. That's all you need to know." Prof. Syed replied.
Holding the hidden cameras, Jessica voiced her reservations. "This feels wrong, Professor. Why do I have to do this?"
Leaning back with a self-assured smile, Prof. Syed responded, "You don't need to know the details. Just consider it a favor to me. A little help, that's all."
Jessica hesitated, her mind racing with questions. "But if Farah or the others find out, they'll doubt me."
"I have a solution. No one will doubt you. Trust me." Prof. Syed replied with a confidence that bordered on arrogance.
Jessica continued to examine the hidden cameras. Prof. Syed began, "These are state-of-the-art, virtually invisible. No one will suspect a thing."
But Jessica as still uncertain. She questioned, "But why especially Farah's bathroom? What's the purpose?"
Prof. Syed, cryptic as ever, replied, "You don't need to know. I handle the why; you handle the how."
"Is this the only reason you asked me to stay in Farah's apartment for a few days?" Jessica inquired again.
"The less you know, the better" Prof. Syed's voice deepened.
...
The kitchen was a warm haven, filled with the tantalizing scent of a home-cooked dinner. Yusuf, drained from a day immersed in his boss Rafi Ahmed's divorce case, tried to focus on preparing a meal for his energetic 3-year-old son, Aidan. Little did Yusuf know that his tired evening was about to be hijacked by the irresistible charm and relentless requests of his adorable son.
When Yusuf stirred a pot on the stove, Aidan, a bundle of cuteness with messy hair and eyes that sparkled with mischief, tugged at his father's pants. "Daddy, Daddy!" he chimed, his tiny fingers pleading for attention.
Offering a tired smile, Yusuf turned to Aidan. "What's up, champ?"
"I want Uncle Ibi's chocolates!" Aidan declared with wide, innocent eyes.
Yusuf chuckled, ruffling Aidan's hair. "We have chocolates at home, buddy. They're just as good."
Aidan shook his head vigorously. "No, Daddy! Uncle Ibi's chocolates are the bestest in the whole wide world. Please, Daddy, please!"
Yusuf sighed, attempting to negotiate with his persistent little negotiator. "Aidan, Daddy is really tired today. Let's enjoy the chocolates we have, okay? We'll see Uncle Ibi another time."
But Aidan, the embodiment of stubborn cuteness, wasn't having it. His lower lip protruded into a pout, and his eyes pleaded with all the innocence in the world. "But Daddy, I want Uncle Ibi's chocolates now. Please, pretty please!"
Yusuf couldn't help but chuckle at Aidan's antics. "Alright, alright. After dinner, we'll call Uncle Ibi and ask him to bring chocolates for you. Deal?"
Aidan's face lit up with sheer joy. "Yay, Daddy! That's good! I want chocolates from Uncle Ibi."
As Yusuf resumed his cooking, Aidan continued to bounce around the kitchen, a ball of energy and excitement. "Daddy, can we call Uncle Ibi now? I want to tell him I want chocolates!"
Yusuf was juggling pots and pans, "Not yet, Aidan. Let's finish dinner first, then we'll call Uncle Ibi."
Aidan decided to try another tactic. "Daddy, I'm sooo hungry. Maybe Uncle Ibi's chocolates will make me not hungry anymore."
Yusuf shook his head, "Nice try, little negotiator. Let's focus on dinner, and then we'll talk to Uncle Ibi."
...
In the study room, Ava carefully attached the frame to the painting she had recently finished. Once satisfied with her work, she decided to show Ibrahim.
She went towards the their bedroom and found him standing on the balcony, a cigarette dangling from his right hand. The aroma of smoke wafted through the air, and Ava hesitated at the entrance, unable to tolerate the smell.
"Ibrahim," she called out, and he turned to face her.
She turned the painting towards him, "The painting... you had asked for earlier... it's completed."
Ibrahim approached her and accepted the artwork with a smile in his face. The cigarette remained in his hand. Before he could comment on painting Ava retreated to her bed.
Ibrahim observed her movement, "Won't you ask for money?"
Sitting on her bed, she replied, "5000 ringgit. You can give it later."
Ibrahim, reaching for his phone on the dressing table, swiftly processed an online transaction to Ava's account. As he took a drag from the cigarette, he informed her, "I've sent the money."
Ava hid under the blanket. She was feeling the discomfort of the cigarette's smell.
Ibrahim asked, "Why is she sleeping so soon today?"
Peeking out from under the blanket, Ava explained, "I'm not sleeping actually the smell is getting unbearable for me."
And Ibrahim realised his oversight. He momentarily forget her aversion to the smell of cigarettes. He abruptly threw the cigarette towards the balcony. The lit end glowed briefly in the night before disappearing over the edge. He threw the cigarette outside without leaving his gaze with Ava.
Ava watched as the cigarette sailed outside, "I didn't ask you to throw it, you know. You can smoke outside."
Holding the painting, Ibrahim approached the wall where a hook awaited its new adornment. He placed the painting on the wall, "Sorry, Baby Girl. It's my fault. I totally forgot that you can't bear the smell."
Ava, who had transitioned from lying to sitting on the bed, couldn't help but be curious. "From when did you start smoking?"
Taking a seat on his single bed, Ibrahim contemplated for a moment before responding, "I started when I was 25."
"Can't you quit? It's harmful, you know." She proved further.
"I didn't start smoking with the intention of quitting one day. It helps me." Ibrahim replied.
Ava, her brows furrowing, persisted, "But it's not good for your health."
"Health isn't my top priority, Ava. Smoking, in a way, has its uses. Helps me to focus, helps me to think. In my line of work, you need something to clear your mind." Ibrahim presented a unique way of expression.
"There are better ways to clear your mind, Ibrahim. You can't let a habit control you." Ava insisted.
Ibrahim countered, "In my world, priorities are different. Survival comes first, Ava. Not everything is black and white. Sometimes, habits become a part of who you are."
Ava, not satisfied with the response, questioned, "Can't you leave smoking if I ask you to?"