Beyond Desire

26- Children. Rumors. Again. Trafficking.

A small smile tugged at my lips as I stared down at the card, still rooted in the middle of the compound like, according to Tessie, "a lost cause."

When I finally gathered enough breath to head back inside, I turned around... and froze. Mahir stood there, leaning against one of the pine trees like a badly-disguised spy, his eyes glued to my face. Perfect. I was about to be interrogated.

Mahir might be my younger brother, but he knew my messy history with heartbreak like a scholar. And even though he would rather join an army and fight the devil with a plastic spoon than admit it out loud, he was annoyingly protective when it came to men and me.

I tried to glide past him, but of course, he followed, his hands folded in front of him like a detective who had caught his prime suspect.

"A bouquet?" he asked, dragging his eyes to the flowers with dramatic suspicion.

"Yeah. Surprisingly." My voice slipped into that cold, indifferent tone I always used whenever someone tried to drag me into conversations I wasn't emotionally ready for.

"Hmm. Surprising indeed." He walked beside me in silence for three whole seconds, an achievement! Before he clicked his tongue. "So, what now? You two are in love? Just clarify for me."

"No!" I threw my hands up, glaring at him. "No, we are not."

"Hmm, makes sense. That explains why he gave you flowers. Definitely not love."

"Mahir....please...." I groaned. "We are not like that. Gosh, I can't believe....." Why was I even explaining myself to him? "Go to hell."

I swung the bouquet at his head but he dodged, with the reflexes of a cockroach fleeing from slippers, laughing as he threw his hands up.

"Easy," he snorted. "Let's not damage your precious bouquet. It's not every day a man brings you flowers. Actually, not every year."

"Mahir, I swear...." I started but my words died in my throat.

They were drowned out by loud, sharp voices echoing from inside the house. We both halted at the doorway and exchanged a glance, my previous irritation dissolving like mist.

My father was supposed to be in a meeting with his colleagues. And yes, they'd had plenty of meetings in our home... but never had the situation escalated to this point.
Never shouting. Never anger.

A frown tightened my face and Mahir's expression mirrored mine. Without another word, we followed the rising voices, our quick steps carrying us toward the small living room, where something was clearly, undeniably wrong.

The argument hit us before we even reached the hallway, their voices were loud and clipped as though they were fighting for space.

Mahir slowed first, his brows pulled together in concentration. I halted beside him, my grip tightening around the bouquet. We listened quietly, through the half-opened door.

"...I'm telling you, this cannot leak," one of them hissed, pacing in front of the bookshelf.

"Leak?" another scoffed. "People are already talking. They have been talking since before the arrest."

My breath stalled.

Mahir shot me a quick look, filled with warning or discomfort, maybe both, I was too focused on the scene to care.

A third man, older and heavier, familiar too, the minister of education I am sure, spoke with a low, urgent growl. "If the press gets wind of the children again, we're finished. You know that. The public won't forgive it twice."

My heart lurched.

Children?

Again?

Mahir stepped slightly in front of me, almost blocking my view of the men.

"That case was thrown out," the first man snapped. "Fabricated nonsense. You know how these things work."

"Fabricated or not," the older man countered, "rumors alone can bury a man."

My father stood in the corner, rubbing his temple, his expression carved from stone. He said nothing, which somehow made everything worse. I hated what I was hearing, I hated every part of this conversation.

I swallowed hard.

Children.

Again.

"If this gets tied to the trafficking mess," the pacing man added, "we're done. Completely done."

Trafficking?

My pulse throbbed painfully in my throat.

Mahir gently touched my elbow, pulling me a step back. His jaw was tight, but his expression stayed neutral, as if he was determined not to react.

The voices inside dropped lower, muffled until we couldn't make out words anymore. After a few seconds, Mahir exhaled and turned away from the door.

"Okay," he whispered, rubbing a hand down his face. "Before you start panicking, whatever you think you heard, it's just their usual political nonsense."

"Mahir?" My voice trembled slightly. "They said children. They said trafficking." I knew he would do anything to dissociate himself from Dada's business but he couldn't possibly ignore this. Could he?

He shrugged, and somehow that annoyed me even more. "Jalilah, you know how these people talk. Everything is always bigger, darker, louder than it really is. Let it go."

I stared at him, trying desperately to find the weakness in his expression. Anything that could tell me he really doesn't mean what he was saying, he wasnt about to dismiss what we just heard. But he didn't just dismiss it, he shrugged and walked right off, pretending none of it meant anything.

But for me, the words were still echoing in my mind, staining the little happiness I felt.

Children.
Rumors.
Again.
Trafficking.

I carried the bouquet to my room and shut the door behind me, the quiet suddenly too loud. I placed the flowers on my table and opened my laptop, my fingers trembling slightly as I typed.

"Minister of Defense's arrest."

Articles filled the screen. Court hearings. Statements. Accusations dismissed as "politically motivated." People arguing in comment sections. Anonymous accounts insisted there was more to the story. So many things to read from I had no idea where to start.

One username though piqued my interest. It kept appearing beneath every report. "Truthuncaged." I recited the name out loud as I typed it in the search bar.

Their posts weren't the usual dramatics, they were very careful and Detailed. One in particular made my skin prickle.

"You're looking in the wrong direction. It's bigger than one man. Some people in power are trafficking children to sell. The rest are just shields."

A shiver crawled down my spine. I chewed at my nails as anxiety set in. I hope I was just reading too much into the whole situation just as Mahir said.

Before I could overthink it, I clicked on their profile and typed one word:

Hey.

Then I shut the laptop, turned off my light, and slid under my blanket even though the day was far from over. Sleep didn't even try to come. My mind kept tugging at the same loose thread, unraveling everything I thought I knew.

What if it wasn't just politics?
What if the rumors weren't rumors at all?

And for the first time, I wasn't sure I wanted the answer.