Beyond Desire

20- Mid-exfoliation emergencies.

Don't forget to press that star and leave a comment.🤍

*************

The next couple of days were relaxing, to say the least. I had been spending all my waking hours inside Cağaloğlu Hamamı, that centuries-old Turkish bathhouse that's been open since 1741. Something about being in a place older than most empires felt... soothing. Or maybe I just needed to pretend the world outside didn't exist for a while.

Like every other day, I was taking a breather after the usual scrub, steam curling around me like a lazy ghost. The steam, not me. I was very much alive, though half-melted into the marble floor.

For once, my thoughts weren't racing. Just silence. Just me. Well, me and Shaka Zulu, the south African Hero.

Don't ask why. I had watched a documentary about him last night, and in a moment of curiosity (and bad decision-making), I had looked up his pictures online. Let's just say the man in my head and the man on Google Images were not the same person. Heroes shouldn't look that ordinary. It was deeply disappointing.

I was still recovering from that heartbreak when the hammam attendant slipped in, holding my phone in both hands like it was a cursed object.

"Madam, it's been ringing non-stop. I think it's important."

I sighed, sitting up and leaning against the warm tiles, warm water dripping down my arms as I took the phone. It was Faiza.

"Oh, come on," I muttered. "Please don't tell me there's an emergency. We agreed on our call times, remember? Morning or late at night, not... 'mid-exfoliation.'"

"Jalilah... you haven't heard?" Faiza's voice was quivering, not her usual chirpy, gossip-ready tone.

"Heard what?" I tried to sound casual, but something in my gut twisted.

"Oh God, I thought you already knew. I shouldn't have called...."

"Faiza," I cut in, grabbing my towel and standing up, "you are actually scaring me right now."

"I'm so sorry, ma'am. I just.....I thought you had seen it online and...."

"Faiza," I snapped, "what happened to my family?"

She hesitated. "Nothing... nothing too bad. It's just oh God.....I shouldn't be the one....."

I didn't let her finish. I ended the call and opened Instagram, my fingers moving faster than my brain. The app loaded, and before I could even breathe, the headline was right there, first post on my feed like it had been waiting for me.

Breaking News: Minister of Defense, Mai Ahmad, arrested on suspicion of human trafficking.

For a second, the world around me went quiet again, the kind of pregnant silence that hums right before it breaks.

The words blurred. I blinked once, twice and it was still there.

"Minister of Defense, Mai Ahmad, arrested on suspicion of human trafficking."

My Dada's name, my actual father.

My pulse began to pound so loud it actually drowned the distance hum of the hammam. The screen trembled in my hands......no, my hand was trembling. The steam had slid off long ago but my body was still slick with disbelief.

"Trafficking?" I whispered to myself, the word felt so foreign yet familiar to my lips. The same trafficking I have been fighting off and advocating against on my page?

My father couldn't even jaywalk without lecturing the police officer on proper arrest protocol, but trafficking?

I felt my stomach drop. Then all the noise came back at once. The dripping water, the shuffle of attendants outside, someone humming to the rhythm of a song I couldn't name. My world was still standing, but it had quietly rearranged itself.

Before I knew it, I was moving. I sauntered into the changing room where I had my clothes laid out and slipped into my gown in record time. I grabbed my scarf, grabbed the popsicle I bought on my way in here because somehow, my brain thought that was important right now. My heart was thudding so hard it hurts.

I barely remembered stepping out, barely remembered the confused woman at the counter who kept asking if I was okay. I just nodded and mouthed "family emergency." before bolting out into the Istanbul afternoon.

By the time I reached the hotel, I was shaking so badly I almost dropped my keycard, twice. The world was spinning, cars honking, people walking too slow, air too heavy, everything was just jumbled up I would have swore it was a dream.

Without even thinking, I went straight to Khalid's door and began to knock. No..... bang at the door.

"Khalid." my voice cracked on the second syllabus. Not sure if he heard me, I paused.

In a heartbeat, the door clicked open, revealing him, barefooted, in a white tee with damp hair, looking utterly unprepared for the hurricane that was me.

"Lily, it's a door not a drum set."

I opened my mouth, but nothing came out.

He stopped when he saw my face,The impoliteness drained from his tone instantly "Hey... what happened? Are you okay?"

"My father," I blurted, shoving my phone into his chest. "He's been arrested. It's everywhere." my voice was trembling, too high, too fast. "They said trafficking, Khalid. Trafficking. My father."

He took the phone, scanning the screen, his brows pulling together. "Okay....come take a seat, I am sure..."

"No, I don't want to sit down. Didn't you hear what I just said? My father is arrested.....how am I suppose...."

"Jalilah." His tone dropped low, firm enough to cut through my panic. "Come inside."

Before I could argue, his hand gripped my shoulder just enough to still me. he guided me into the room, closed the door, and steered me toward the couch. I resisted, but his grip was like a gentle steel, unyielding without being rough.

"Sit," he said, his voice calm but commanding. "And breathe."

My knees gave out before I could protest, and I sank onto the couch. He crouched in front of me, my phone still in his hand.

"Have you call anyone yet? Your family?" He handed the phone back.

My breath hitched. Family. Of course. What was I even thinking?

I dialed Mahir's line first. Switched off. Then my mother. Also off. Then the maids. No one picked.

"See...."I said, wiping at the tear that had slipped down without permission. "They are not answering their phones. He is really arrested, isn't he?" my voice broke on the last word.

Khalid exhaled slowly, rubbed his temple, then looked up at me. "Listen to me." he said, his tone leaving no room for argument. "We will figure this out. I will book the first flight out, okay?"

I didn't trust myself to speak, so I just nodded. My throat was tight, my chest burning.

He stood, already reaching for his phone, already scrolling through flights, his jaw set in that quiet, determined way of his, Like he had done this a thousand times, being the calm in chaos.

I sat there, clutching the edge of the couch for balance, trying to breathe, trying to understand how twenty minutes ago, I was arguing with myself about Shaka Zulu's cheekbones and now, my entire world was on fire.

"We leave in forty minutes. Go get your things."

And for once, I didn't argue. I just nodded, my body moving before my mind could catch up. Because in that moment, trembling, broken, and heart in my throat, I knew one thing for sure.  If Khalid hadn't been here, I would have fallen apart.

*********

Cheers to the 20th chapter🍾

Here's to the story finally deciding to hit the gym and get some action! From here onward, it just keeps twisting, I hope you enjoy it🍾🤍

P.S. If you don't know who Shaka is, do yourself a favor and look him up, YouTube's got you covered. It was epic 😁🤍