Enwrapped

Chapter 16

For a week, Saboor stayed away from the office. The memory of discovering her absence from the shareholders' list was a thorn lodged deep in her chest, and every time she thought of it, the pain seemed to spread. The betrayal stung—her own father, keeping her in the dark about the business she had worked tirelessly for. She tried to busy herself with managing the restaurant, greeting her staff with a forced smile that never reached her eyes, hoping that the day's work might drown out the thoughts circling her mind. But each night, as she lay in bed, the questions returned, whispering through the silence.

Why hadn't he included her?

Why did he offer her promises he never intended to keep?

And, most of all, why did she still yearn for his approval despite everything?

Each day that she didn't step foot into the office, she half-expected a call or a message from her father. But her phone stayed silent, except for Muzammil's gentle check-ins and the usual notifications about restaurant deliveries. It was as if her absence meant nothing at all.

Yet, beneath the sharp sting of betrayal, Saboor felt a strange emptiness—a hollowness that had replaced the dark moroseness. It was as if there had been something else in her life before—something beyond just the restaurant and home, a sense of purpose that the business had given her, even if it was often frustrating and mostly hurtful. Now, with that purpose ripped away, she felt lighter, like a burden had been lifted off her shoulders. There was a freedom in it, an empty space in her mind that hadn't been there before, but it was a freedom laced with a quiet kind of sadness. The absence of pressure felt both good and deeply unsettling, as if she was caught in a strange in-between—untethered, yet lost.

One morning, while sitting in the empty restaurant before it opened, Saboor cradled a cup of tea between her hands, letting the warmth seep into her palms. She stared out the window, watching the streets slowly come alive with the morning hour traffic. Just then, her phone rang. She glanced at the screen and saw Abbu displayed, a familiar jolt of anxiety and anticipation tightening her chest.

She took a breath, steeling herself before answering. "Assalamu alaykum, Abbu?"

Luqmaan's voice on the other end was brisk, but with a hint of irritation she couldn't quite ignore. "Walaykum assalam. Saboor, I've been trying to reach you. Where have you been?"

His voice had very clearly indicated he had missed her work more than he missed her presence.

"I've been very busy with the restaurant," she replied neutrally, not offering more even though she wanted to. "Why did you call?"

He didn't linger much, moving quickly to the reason for his call. "There's a seminar in Singapore next week—an important opportunity to showcase our new business. I want you to attend on our behalf. You've got the experience and the skills to represent us well."

Saboor's fingers tightened around the phone. A part of her wanted to refuse outright, to remind him that he hadn't even thought to include her as a shareholder. For a moment, the words rose to her lips, sharp and biting: "Why don't you send Siraj, then?" But she swallowed them back, knowing that saying them would change nothing, and might only give away that she knew more than he intended.

She knew, and he knew too, that Siraj was not an option. He didn't have the experience, the knowledge, or the composure that she had. As much as it stung, Saboor understood that her father wanted her to go because she was the best choice for the job—just like it had always been. He had always relied on her expertise when it mattered most, using her skills when it served him, even if he couldn't bring himself to recognize her.