Gunnah e Shab

23. Lies • جھوٹ

Chapter rc : whisper of hope by Twinklenight_

There were two reasons I was too scared to let people in; the damage they could do and the damage they could find — Chris M Geonu

Dried chillies. That was the first thought in Laila's mind as she stepped out of her bedroom. Placing her hair behind her ear, she noticed the wide wooden door thrown open. The aroma of button red chillies teasing her nostrils. Taking small steps towards the wide terrace she was left dumbfounded to find the whole length of it covered in a white sheet. With wide wicker trays covered with bright red peppers. All left out to dry under the bright sunshine. Squinting her eyes, she tried to make sense of the peculiar sight. No one dried chillies themselves anymore—least of all a family as rich as Azmaray's. The store bought ones were just as good and required way less time.

"Laila what are you doing here?" He rested a hand on her arm.

Laila shuddered, slightly scared on Azmaray's silent arrival. Shaking her head she leaned into his embrace. Pushing him out of the door, following suit.

"Was just seeing the chillies. A peculiar sigh," she spoke.

"It's another one of those 'traditions' that never died," he replied, shrugging his shoulders.

Laila nodded, pulling her black organza veil off of the floor. Her thin, strapped gold heels preventing the black anarkali from brushing the squeaky clean floors.

"Do you want to wait for me or would you prefer to join Hooriya chachi, mama and Anbar in the kitchen first?" He spoke.

Taking her time and counting the pros and cons of each option, Laila settled for the latter. While Azmaray had been clear that she should care less about his family, Laila wanted to make it all easy for him. To get along with them so that his reign as the duke could be easy. It was the least she could do for him.

Descending the stairs slowly she mulled over her thoughts. Her fingers grasping the sides of her dress as she ambled across the vast lounge. The kitchen was mammoth sized. Daunting wooden cabinets covered the majority of the walls. Five industrial sized burners fixed onto the marble counter tops. A large island in the middle of the room was covered with fresh produce. A thin sliding door leading into the herb garden of the estate. She noticed two doors and could imagine one being the pantry and the other, a giant freezer. It would after all take a lot of food to feed the army that this estate required.

Anbar was in between her mother and their mother-in-law, conversing without trouble. The three moved around the chefs and servers with ease. Not an ounce of insecurity or trouble. They had been doing this all their life—there was nothing awkward about their movements. Awkwardly, Laila stood in the door. The help ignoring her presence, to keep on the good side of Azaan Khan ofcourse. However, this further increased her motivation. Crossing the threshold of the door in full confidence Laila cleared her throat.

"Could I be of any help?" Her face held no emotions.

Eyes turned to her. Anbar arrogantly raising her brow as she focused on chopping the fresh basil.

"We don't ask guests to help us," Saheefa retorted.

"And who said I am a guest?" She forced each word out.

"Darling Azmaray is just infatuated. Soon enough he'll leave you and marry one of us," she replied.

"One of you?"