𝐎𝐮𝐫 𝐋𝐨𝐯𝐞 𝐋𝐚𝐧𝐠𝐮𝐚𝐠𝐞 | 𝐁𝐨𝐨𝐤 𝟎𝟏

𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐏𝐓𝐄𝐑 𝟒𝟔

FAIZAN

“I have a lead on who was behind that article incident.” Ryan says as soon as I answer his call.

I’m sitting in my home office, my laptop open in front of me showing the documentation I have to review.

Arzo is in the other room, in her art studio, painting for her portrait exam.

Yes, she finally got the perfect inspiration and knows what to paint.

However, I am forbidden to enter the art studio till the painting is done so I’m impatiently waiting for her to take a break so we can spend time together.

I lean back in my chair and speak, “which is?”

“The journalist said that whoever hired him, he didn’t meet them in person. As for the name they gave, that was… Shoaib Sadiq.”

“What?”

“I’m not repeating myself, Malik.”

“How is that just a lead?” I ask.

“I see that marriage has messed with your brain,” I roll my eyes at his statement. This man is allergic to marriage. The world will end the day he decides to commit to someone.

Sure, there is someone who gets his attention but he denies it.

“Either tell me what I need to know or I’m hanging up.” I say.

He sighs, “somethings never change.” He mutters, “anyways, let me tell you something, if someone is paying someone to write an article based on a rumor- or to start a rumor- they usually don’t give their own name.”

“Who would use Shoaib’s name?”

“Not sure. I asked my source to get the number through which whoever the person contacted the journalist then I will ask Finn to track down that number.”

“Okay, send me that number as well.”

“Okay.” a pause, “so, by the way, I read the news.”

“Okay.”

“Are you going to visit him?”

Ryan, Finn and Jack aren’t aware of the description of my childhood. All they know is that my biological parents were horrible. The only reason they found out Kamran Saidi was my father is because Farhan accidentally mentioned it while they were reading an article about him.

We don’t usually discuss our past with each other. We all are aware of how each of our past ended, maybe not the description but enough to know the other person.

“No.” I say.

“Okay. Good.” he says, “I’ll tell you when I find something else.”

“Okay, thanks.”

“No problem.”

We say our goodbye and I end the call. Taking a deep breath, I’m about to go back to doing my work when the doorbell rings.

I get up from my chair and exit my home office, taking the stairs down to answer the door.

As soon as I open the door, my body freezes.

A woman dressed in a beige abaya and hijab stands in the frame. Her eyes, the same color as mine. Tiredness painted over her face, showing how much unwanted attention they’ve been getting.

The woman standing outside is my biological mother.

“Assalamu Alaikum, Faizan.” she finally speaks, her voice low.