His City ( اُس کے شہر )

One

Arya knew she was completely screwed.

She stood in the middle of the mass crowd, everyone looking intent on reaching their own destinations. There was an air of tension around the whole area, something she realized was found in abundance when you were at airports.

The Charles de Gaulle airport was bustling with life even though according to her watch, it was about five minutes past midnight. There were tourists, mothers searching for their lost children, and families clinging on to each other so they didn't lose each other.

Arya clutched her duffel back in one hand and her carryon with her other. Her heart was beating, mind whirling with the sudden introduction to such a different culture.

Okay, Arya, you're not a baby she sternly thought to herself. Come on, you can walk to the exit.

Shouldering her bag, she forced her legs to start moving, thanking God that they had English written next to the French on the signs.

The moment she stepped through the sliding doors that spread all along the wall, she was greeted with a cold breeze.

Winter seemed to have arrived early in Paris. The roads were slick with fresh rain and cars lined along the pavement.

People were greeting each other, family members and friends who probably hadn't seen each other for a long time

Arya didn't want to take a step further, terrified at the concept of getting lost. Ami had told her that Mrs. Shah would be sending someone to pick her up from the airport but she didn't see anyone at all.

What was she supposed to do now?

The wind was picking up its' speed, clawing at the ends of her hijab and she shivered, wrapping her jacket around her tightly. Her shoulder was beginning to ache from carrying her bag for so long.

When she had imagined first arriving in the city of dreams, she had imagined being ecstatic, because she was finally one step ahead of accomplishing her dream. But instead she felt miserable, tired, and hungry. She was all alone and it seemed like Mrs Shah had forgotten about her.

Perfect.

***

The music vibrated against Asad Shah's skin as he lounged in one of the chairs near the bar. The room was semi-dark, multicolored lights flashing from the ceiling. His skin felt clammy, shirt sticking to him since he had just come out from the packed and hectic dance floor. French music blared from the speakers.

"That was fun, wasn't it?" A blond grinned at him, teeth glistening in the dark. He was pretty sure she had introduced herself to him but his mind was too hazy to actually remember anymore.

He gave her a small smile, not in the mood to converse. She continued to blabber in French and Asad subtly tuned her out.

"Hey asshole," someone screamed in his ear. It was Omar, his best friend and criminal sidekick. He dropped his lean frame next to Asad, looking completely annoyed when he spotted the blond. He leaned towards Asad. "Not fair. You always get the blondes."

Asad rolled his his eyes. "You can have her. She's a talker."

The music was loud enough to cover their conversation from the anonymous blonde.

The annoyed expression immediately vanished from his face "Nothing I cant handle."

Typical Omar

"Oh, I totally forgot to tell you. Your mother has been calling me nonstop. She seemed pissed because apparently, you have your cell off." Omar stood back up and stretched. The blonde's eyes immediately trailed over him.

Asad groaned. He really didn't want to hear his mother's antics right now but nevertheless he stood up and headed for the club's back entrance, avoiding groupies and ignoring the looks the girls passed him.

"You wanted to speak with me, Ami?" Asad asked once his mother picked up on the first ring.

"Asad Ahmad Shah where in the world have you been the whole day?" Asad winced at the high pitch of his mom's voice, pulling the phone away from his ear. "I Swear to God Asad, I gave you one job, and you can't even do that? The poor soul was waiting for hours at the airport."

Asad tried to wrap his mind around her words, the shots he had previously had making his mind work slow.

"What are you talking about?" He scratched the back of his head.

"I'm talking about when I told you to go pick up Arya from the airport." His mother snapped. "Why can't you do anything right, Asad?"

He rolled his eyes. He wasn't in the mood for one of his mother's speeches.

"If it was so important you should've told Rafe to do it." There was a sneer in his tone. "He does everything else perfectly well." Before his mother could continue he dropped the call, the new anger messing with the buzz he had just acquired.

Asad was sick of his mother always telling him how wrong or how useless he was.

Cursing under his breathe, he slammed the door behind him, the music greeting him once again.

It was time to officially get drunk.

***

Arya folded her prayer mat and set it down on the table of her new room. Her whole body was aching and the jet lag was catching up to her. The time difference between California and Paris were massive. She had waited at the airport for about three hours before someone had finally come up to her and asked her if she was Ms. Arya Ali. It had been a driver.

He had drove her to the Shah residence which was on the borders of Paris. Arya was surprised to know that it was located in the countryside rather in in the main city. They passed beautiful ranch homes and green valleys.

The house was massive. She had been told by her mother that the Shah's came from old money but seeing the house now told her just how wealthy the were.

Supposedly the Shah family had been close family friends of her parents before they moved out here. She had been young back then, so she hardly even remember. They owned a big international business, the older son handling it now that their father had passed away.

Once she had gotten here, Mrs. Shah had immediately rushed up to her, profusely apologizing about the fact that she had to wait so long. She had been really sweet. She had asked if Arya wanted food which she had obliged from. She must have noticed how tired Arya was because she had immediately ushered the young girl to her room. She left after telling her to call her if she needed anything.

Arya studied her new room. It was beautiful and absolutely massive. Her old room had been so small she hadn't had any space left for her mannequins. But this room had its own walk in closet and bathroom. It was decorated in muted colors, the bed covered in white sheets. Once she had unpacked, which wasn't much, she had showered and offered her Isha prayers.

She was tired now, and sleep was the only thing her body wanted. The excitement about finally being in Paris, about finally attending her dream academy could wait for the morning. According to her phone it was a Saturday, and she would start on Monday. She had a whole day to get prepared for it.

Right now the most important thing was sleep.

Slipping under the comfortable covers, Arya was asleep before her head even hit the pillow.

***

Hello my beautiful readers. I welcome you all to the story of Arya and Asad! This story is very dear to my heart as it is one of the firsts I've written. I hope you all can enjoy the story as much as I enjoyed writing it!

Much love always <3