His City ( اُس کے شہر )

Eight

The day that she had been dreading had come way too fast. It was Friday, and Arya sat on her bed, staring blankly at her closet. Jasmine had already texted her the address of her home, saying to be there by five.

The clock already read five. She had prayed her Maghrib prayers and now she was at an impasse.

Every pore in her body was telling her to not go, but her pride refused to give in.

Getting up, she shifted through her closet and pulled out a green maxi dress and ankle boots. She put on a black hijab and a hint of lip gloss. Taking a deep breath she stared at herself in the mirror.

Arya had never been vain of herself. She had inherited the dark eyebrows and dark eyes enveloped in long lashes from her Pakistani heritage. She had a good height of five six. She wasn't perfect though; her nose was slightly bumpy and her lips a bit uneven. But she had never really minded. Being average wasn't all that bad.

"Okay, Arya." She stared at herself in the mirror. "Darpok na bano. You'll be fine. Just go in and get out. Simple." She tried to smile but it came out as more of a grimace. Shifting her attention away from the mirror, she shouldered her bag and headed out.

She didn't see anyone on her way out and immediately dove into the waiting car, escaping from the cool chill of the night air.

Arya gave the driver Jasmine's address, slumping back in her seat. The roads were filled with cars that lined close together. It was an extremely busy night. There was a twisty feeling in her stomach and she wished she hadn't eaten the strawberry tart Francis had offered her.

The driver came to a stop in front of a lavish penthonse and saying a quick thanks to the driver, she pushed the voice in her head that was screaming at her that this was a bad idea.

Taking a deep breath, Arya rang the doorbell and a butler answered.

These people were too rich for their own good. Arya didn't know how she became involved with such elite people when she herself was middle class. The best thing she had ever done was got to Universal Studios for the Harry Potter theme park and even that had put a strain on her parents. If she hadn't won that scholarship, she would have never been able to attend the academy here in Paris. The registration fees cost more than her parent's monthly income.

"You must be Madame Ali," The butler's accent was thick. When Arya nodded he waved her in. "Madame Jasmine said to lead you up. Come. Zis way."

Arya quietly followed the butler, staring at his stiff back. He lead her up two flight of elegant stairs and stopped in front of a set of glassed double doors

"Zher you go," He nodded.

"Thank you," She said and the butler left with another nod.

Taking another deep breath she pushed open the doors.

Arya couldn't help but hold her breath as the view unfolded in front of her. The whole city of Paris was illuminated below her. The infamous Eiffel Tower standing like a beacon in the distance.

The roottop was decorated with fairy lights and there were chairs and cushions set in the corner where most of the people stood.

"Oh Allah," Arya whispered to herself in awe. She had only seen a sight like this in movies.

"Arya!" Jasmine bounded over, hugging herself from the chilly wind as she was only wearing a small dress. Her dyed blond hair hung around her in a curtain.

"I didn't think you would come!" She squealed in joy.

Me neither, she wanted to tell the blond: But an irksome boy forced me into it.