Too Little, Too Late

48

The restaurant was one Ayra would have missed had she not done her research while trying to unravel all the lies the squad had told so she could piece the puzzle together.

It was a hole in the wall restaurant whose exterior was nothing extraordinary but its interior was so beautiful and cosy that she didn't feel the rush to leave or go through the regular motions as she'd done in the places she and Ibtihaj had visited in Europe.

Dark tiled floors, cream painted walls, dark topped wooden tables, and plush velvet seats came together to create a beauty, complimenting the warm lighting and the tall ceilings alongside the faux vines that were wrapped around pillars.

Apart from a couple in a corner, the restaurant was empty and Ayra knew she and Ibtihaj had arrived at just the perfect time; with half an hour left until its official closing time. Leading the way, she walked to one of the wall tables and slid into a seat. Ibtihaj did the same and together, they looked around, taking it all in.

There were paintings on the walls and a few pictures. The paint strokes were overly familiar and Ayra knew if she walked up to them, she'd see the signature of Serkan Fahad. Among the pictures, one was of Bella and Ibrahim looking cosy and loving with her leaning into his side while his arm stayed wrapped around her shoulders. Both their smiles were beautiful but Ibrahim's was warmer and he looked so at home and at ease that Ayra's chest hurt a bit.

Another photo that got Ayra's attention was one of two people who had their backs turned to the camera. The male was tall and familiar and Ayra could only stare at him for an entire minute before she turned to the female who he had his arm around her waist. The woman in the picture was captured looking sideways and Ayra recognised the side profile a moment later.

"Ayra," Ibtihaj asked, her eyes on the same photo. "Aren't those Ibrahim's parents?"

Ayra nodded, her chest back to being heavy. "They are."

"Oh wow...This restaurant must have a lot of history of them."

Ayra nodded again, looking from the photo of Salim and Fareeda to that of Ibrahim and Bella. "It must."

A minute later, they were joined by the owner of the restaurant; a Xhosa woman in her mid-sixties who radiated warmth in every way possible. From all she'd read about the place, Ayra knew the woman's name was Thandiwe; a woman who loved it when customers stayed behind to listen to her stories. She – Thandiwe – also made the best meals, especially soups, and the reviews she had online were nothing short of beautiful.

"Hello, ladies." Thandiwe said, putting her hands together in front of her while a smile graced her face. "I'm sorry for the delay. I had to finish up something in the kitchen."

Both Ayra and Ibtihaj easily smiled back and told her it was alright. When she asked what she could get them, Ayra's smile shrunk but stayed sincere with a hint of sadness. "We were hoping you could give us your best meal and that you'll be kind enough to indulge us in stories you have about a family that owns properties around here."

Thandiwe stared at her for a long moment before her smile returned and she nodded. "Very well. I'll get started on your meal and close up so we can talk. Now, does a cold glass of freshly made mixed fruit juice sound good?"

Ayra nearly melted. She and Ibtihaj nodded at the same time and replied like twins. "Yes please."

Thandiwe laughed. "Alright then. Just give me a minute."

They told her to take her time. It took her an exact minute and half to have their drinks brought to their table, as though she'd prepared for their arrival beforehand. The couple who were the only customers in the restaurant finished up and footed their bill. Unable to just sit and watch, Ayra and Ibtihaj helped Thandiwe clear up the table the couple had occupied and once she finished locking up the restaurant, she forced them out of her kitchen although they tried to insist on helping her with the used dishes.