A Piece Of His Heart

Four

Waleed

That girl is insane.

That was what I gathered from the meeting. I'd never seen, met or heard of anyone around me who would straight up ask if I'm a model. What happened to seconds thoughts? And not being rude or something like that?

But what infuriated me more than her behavior was what my parents had done.

"You and Dad seem to have a penchant for pain," I said to my mother as I opened the car door for her when we were leaving, still not completely believing that we were really here right now.

In this neighborhood.

"Waleed..." She let out a weak sound. How had she even thought it was okay to pick a girl from this neighborhood was truly beyond me.

I shook my head, frustrated. "Forget about it."

"I really hadn't thought of it!" She called out after me when I walked away and headed for the driver's seat.

"Then, Mama, you should've thought about it." I answered back, my voice sounding as blank to my ears as I felt.

The thought that I might know Eliza from years ago... It made me nauseous.

Dad'slips stayed pursed as he chose not to say a word about it. I could feel Shifa's eyes on me and the confusion that radiated off her in waves.

"What's going on?"

She had no idea about it and I would like for it to stay that way.

"Nothing, Shifa. Please ignore it." I answered before my parents could. We'd left this place, and it was in the past. It should stay there.

"And, Mama, I'm not marrying her." I announced with resolute, grimacing at the flashback of her.

There wasn't anything seriously wrong with her, I suppose. But I wasn't looking to get married right now, not when I was at the peak of my career and all my time and attention was required by my work. I couldn't manage the responsibility of a wife right now, but the point was proving to be hard to get through to my mother.

"Why not? What's wrong with her?" My mother asked sweetly though I could see her patience running thin with me.

Nothing. That would be the honest answer but one that would cause me to sink deeper into this problem.

"She asked me if I was a model!" I burst out, waving my hand for emphasis. It had been an extremely embarrassing moment for me back there, and while it may not be a good enough reason to reject her, I had other reasons that my mother wasn't getting.

Shifa let out a snort that I knew she'd been holding in back then, too. I glowered at her through the rearview mirror then found both my parents smiling, too.

"It was a compliment from her, Waleed. If she asked if you're a model, it means she thinks you look good enough to be a model. Samjha karo, mere bache." Mama countered, looking amused and like she was having a lot of fun.

*"Try to understand, my son."

"Nahi samajhna mujhe, if she's going to embarrass me like that in front of everyone."