A Court's Maim

اسم | Noun

Friendly reminder :
If you haven't read that bonus about Aliyaar & Barekhna's eloped wedding.....go read it right now!

Chapter 15.

"He's going to kill you!"

Zayed stared at his best friend with an alienated grin on his mouth. The man was in dire need of a reality check, to be gripped from his throat and then reminded kindly, of he was — beyond being a lover. He smirked at the man who looked to be the furthest thing from a thirty-one year old business man, instead he resembled a two year old who did not know any better. Pushing his hair aside, he stared at the man seated before his piano, the scene a bit too familiar from what he remembered.

"I've got it under control."

Aliyaar replied instead, with his voice full of confidence. The length of his bony fingers drug over the white keys, soft sounds like the gentlest of woos of the winds filled through the empty parlor. His best friend looked comical, the red t shirt and the crème sofas were a strong alternate, the contrast wildly different. Sprawling the width of his palms over the thin paper, he traced the symbols of the musical notes. Something was off about the notes they dwelled into his being a bit too easily. Sparking curiosity he searched for the tempo.

"Aliyaar act your age. Your father will kill you if the stocks fall any lower."

"Does it matter?"

He groaned, his squared jaw fell on to the deep cherry wood with contempt, Aliyaar's voice lost the edge of power as he pondered over the decisions he had been asked to take.

"Yes it does. You can't selfishly decide for the entire company," Zayed pinched his nose, "there's more than a hundred employees that depend on you."

"Tou phir mein kia karun? Meri samajh tou yahi ata hai, it's about time we held that re-vote." He spoke frustrated.
[What should I do then? This is the only way I can understand.]

"Are you out of your mind? Sukhera wants you to take the bait Aliyaar! Even my father won't be able to help you." Zayed shook his head in return.

"He's threatening me with a lawsuit, I really can't take any chances. Sukhera thinks his son has a chance — fine, we'll show him how wrong he truly is."

"Aliyaar what lawsuit? You're the most law abiding person I know!"

"He's using the social reforms card and for us not offering our workers enough benefits," Aliyaar spoke, the undertones inside his voice razor sharp as the court proceedings from his brother's case lived on in his head vividly.

"Kuch nahi kar sakta Sukhera. Koi ghalat kaam mat kar dena jald baazi mein."
[Sukhera can not do anything. Just don't take a rash decision in your hurry.]

Aliyaar tutted, his head shook an inch from the sturdy position. His leg tucked under him, the other straightened out, he placed a piece of boxed patty into his plate. The eggshell white of his porcelain plate painted with flowers and vines — silver and black dotted the tucked in edges and the small gold fork cut through the centre of it. Humming to himself in the innocent delight he munched on it, the flaky crust spilled on to the crisp material of his dress shirt, the white stained with streaks of oil. Chewing, the spices exploded through the fillings and black pepper dusted itself into the corner of his mouth. Every inch of the man's actions were lined with charisma and shaded with the muted lights of the parlor he looked like an enigma.