Tangent to my heart

Chapter 1

The darkened clouds at noon successfully managed to dampen Ziya's spirits. She loved the rain but didn't like the darkness.

Sipping the tea , she scrolled through her Instagram account, trying to find her inspiration for painting. The last portraits that she had done for two of her grandmother's colleagues had sold incredibly well. She aimed to keep up with it. Not that she had any doubt on her capabilities, it's just that she lacked the sentiments which her work demanded. Who can blame her? The past three months had been a whirlwind of transition between real world and a nightmare. At least it seemed that way to her who had been brought up with so much love and care, despite the absence of her parents.

Now that her grandmother was indisposed, Ziya had to step up in her role which was tedious for an introvert like her. The worst part was interacting with the media that seemed to follow her every where. The rest was manageable. 

The checkered mug contained quarter of the cold chai when she was done scrolling her phone. Sighing , she grabbed the mug and walked downstairs to the kitchen.

As she passed the living room, she stopped short. There, sitting on the large armchair was Zain Salman. In his left hand was a portfolio that no doubt contained documents of a recent case. Although why he bothered to visit was beyond her.

She moved stilently, determined to avoid a confrontation.

" Assalamu alaikum " .

" Shit ". Ziya quickly clapped her mouth and muttered a quick Astaghfar.

She slowly turned around. He was now standing with his eyebrows raised.

" I think you were supposed to say waalaikumussalam " . His onyx eyes exuded pride and conceit.

" I know what I am to say, though I would prefer not to." She rolled her eyes and started to walk away.

" Believe me , I didn't want to see you as well. It's only because of dadi. She asked me to come." He said and moved towards the elevator near the stairs.

" What did she want?"

" That's between me and her."

" She is my grandmother. Not yours!"

"Are you capable of saying something that I am not already aware of ? " He asked dryly.

" Can you stop being so patronising for a single moment ?" She asked in exasperation.

" Only if you quit behaving like a kid." He spoke with a smirk as the glass doors closed.
He always had the last say.

Now, she had to find out what was going on between her grandmother and Zain. For the past two weeks, Zain had visited the Darul Ismail- their home- now and then. When she asked her dadi about it, all she received was a stubborn silence.

Eavesdropping was impossible. So she had to look for some other means.
An idea hit her. She went to the kitchen and kept the mug in the sink. Jamila Didi, their cook of ten years was chopping carrots for the salad. She caught a whiff of the delicious Biriyani, loaded with rich spices and marinated chicken.
" Didi, did you know that Amma jan had invited Zain?"
" Of course. I knew, dear."
" Ohh! Then that must be the reason for this extensive menu."
Ziya said gazing longingly at the payasam. Next to it, a cerulean tray was ready with the tea pot.
" Didi, I will send this upstairs."