Beyond Desire

31-Caught in the impossible middle.

When I walked into the house, my cheeks were still warm. One sentence looped endlessly in my head, refusing to be shunned: "I don't take women birdwatching by accident" and then he added "make of that what you will". What exactly was I supposed to do with that, other than obsess over it for as long as my giddy heart could manage?

The house was mercifully quiet, save for the soft shuffle of staff moving about, which I was super grateful for as the last thing I needed was mama, or worse, Mahir, asking why I had gone out with Khalid, or why he had given me flowers again, for the second time, as if the first wasn't suspicious enough.

When I reached my room, I slipped out of my gown and went straight for the flower pot. The ones from two days ago had wilted just enough to make their replacement feel justified. I discarded them and placed the fresh bouquet in their place, leaning in to inhale their scent as if it were oxygen and I had been holding my breath all day. The silly smile on my face never falters, not even for a single second.

By the time I was done bathing and praying, the sun had surrendered completely, leaving the sky wrapped in night. I have been in a meeting earlier with my assistant, discussing and coordinating donations and deciding how best to distribute them. The meeting was a success even though she spend half the time apologizing for breaking the bad news of my father to me. Hunger eventually dragged me downstairs, where I found Mahir already home, utterly absorbed in his latest artistic obsession. A new canvas. In Mama's living room again.

If she walks in and sees this, there will probably be a long speech about respecting spaces. There was paint dotted on the floor, smudged on his hands and God help us, hovered dangerously close to Mama's carpet. The same carpet she complained about for weeks the last time he painted in the living room, lamenting on how the stains were impossible to remove. I shook my head as I stared at him for a moment.

Not wanting to be too much of a distraction, I just picked up the bowl of oil paint he was using and started walking away with it. I had barely made it halfway across the room when he noticed.

"Hey, HEY!"

I didn't stop.

Within seconds, he was on his feet, abandoning his precious canvas to chase after me. He caught up easily, snatched the bowl from my hands, and gave me a light shove in the process.

"If you are desperate for attention, you say it." He gave a resentful sigh, eyeing the paint as if I had almost committed a crime against humanity. "Do you know how much this costs? You don't even respect art. Go and sit down before you ruin something you can't afford."

I grinned and walked away, satisfied that I had managed to get under his skin. He would have done far worse if the roles were reversed, this was me being merciful.

I ate whatever I could find, which turned out to be a bowl of leftover rice that had clearly given up on life. A quick spin in the microwave brought it back to something edible, and that was good enough for me. I escaped back to my room not long after, ready to shut the world out.

My phone buzzed just as I stepped inside. I hurried in, heart jumping for no sensible reason, half-expecting it to be Khalid.

It wasn't him.

It was truthuncaged. And just like that, the night stopped being ordinary.

"Will I get what I asked for?"

I sank slowly onto the bed, staring at his message as if the words might rearrange themselves into something clearer if I looked long enough. I had been avoiding this part on purpose, deliberately.

Yes, I had heard things. Not clean sentences though, not confessions, but they were pieces of conversations that refused to leave me alone. As much as I want to figure out the truth, I also want my father alive and intact. Giving out his secrets sure wouldn't help with that. But keeping it wouldn't get my question answered either.