In the Interlude

Chapter 23 - New Beginnings

"Would you prefer an aisle or a window seat?"

"A window seat please, and as near the front as possible."

The front desk handed Aïcha her boarding ticket after a few moments, wishing her a good flight.

Check-in was quick and over in under five minutes but the line through customs was already long, too long. Parents struggled to keep their kids nearby, older people complained, a group of young athletes laughed loudly at each other's jokes while another group compared stories of flights from hell, just what nobody needed before boarding an aeroplane.

But she was not letting any of this rain on her parade. Not today. Aïcha was going back to Paris to start a new chapter in her life. She was a little sad she left her daughter with her parents, but they would reunite again in two weeks and with all she had to do in the meantime, she was sure time was going to fly in the blink of an eye.

And there was Tom... A smile crossed her face at the thought of him. It grew wider as her gaze landed on him, mere meters away from her.

At first, she thought she imagined the whole thing. But he was unmistakably there, looking like he just stepped out of the cover of Gentleman's Quarterly magazine. GQ for those in the know.

But she shouldn't be surprised to see him. They were both flying out of Casablanca the same day. He was going back to London, and she to Paris.

Tom stopped in the VIP lane. Her heart fluttered in her chest as she reached to her phone and searched for his number, thinking of surprising him with a teasing text.

And then someone shifted by his side and she watched Tom slide his arm around a woman's waist. Vanessa's. She smiled up at him and reached out for his hand. He smiled down and whispered in her ear and laughter escaped her lips.

Aïcha's body tensed and she almost dropped her phone to the floor. A fog of something pressed on her chest. Annoyance? Hurt? Jealousy? And why would she feel any of these? This is ridiculous, she thought to herself.

Questions swirled in her mind. Were they together? When did it happen? And why didn't he tell her about Vanessa? By the time she composed herself, Tom and Vanessa were no longer in sight. They had been quickly through customs while she was still stuck in the bloody line cursing the whole concept of flying.

After what seemed like an eternity, Aïcha finally boarded. The airport had been buzzing with travellers and unbearable noise but the flight was surprisingly empty. She was hoping the seat by her left would stay empty.

And empty it stayed.

Unlike her head.

She had planned to finish reading a spy novel by John le Carré. But her head had a mind of its own. It has decided it was too distracted to follow the many characters from the novel and that it should instead focus on Tom and Vanessa and examine in excruciating detail what she just witnessed, and her feelings in the process.

By the end of the two-and-half-hour flight, she had a severe headache. She had also decided that nothing of this mattered.

Yes, she was jealous. She couldn't rationalise it and didn't try to. She just embraced it.

She accepted those feelings as she reassured herself that it didn't change anything in the grand schemes of things.

What she had with Tom was still just a fling. She had no right claiming his undying fidelity. And she was still very much looking forward to seeing him in Paris.

Aïcha sighed with relief when she finally stepped into the small flat she was renting through Airbnb in the 15th arrondissement. It had been a long day. Heck, it had been a long month.

She brought her luggage to the middle of the living room, stripped down to nothing, left everything lying there on the floor and got into the shower not bothering to look for a towel. She wanted to wash away the day's noise, sweat, and dust. She stretched under the hot steamy water, turned her head from side to side trying to ease the headache that was just not letting go.

Aïcha stayed in the shower with the water running over her tired body until steam filled the bathroom. She quickly washed her hair and body and went looking for clean towels. Wrapping herself in one and her hair in another, she fell on the bed yawning from fatigue.

It was not even eight in the evening but she decided she had enough of Monday. She called her parents and Mia to tell them she made it safely then prepared herself for a good night sleep.

By the time she was lying in bed, she had composed a little text to send Tom. Just something to keep him on his toes.

Finally in Paris, in bed, thinking of you
just before drifting off to sleep. Hope you
made it safely back to London. By the way,
you looked dashing today. Bonne nuit.

She grinned from ear to ear, trying to imagine Tom's face reading her text. She turned off the light on the nightstand, happy to find Morpheus already welcoming her with open arms.

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Tom put his phone down on the coffee table in his living room before grabbing it back again to read Aïcha's text. How the hell did she know what he was wearing? Did she see him in the airport? If so, why didn't she call to say hello?

Shit.

She must have seen him holding Vanessa's hand.

Was this her way to say she was cool with it? Surely, she didn't know about him and Vanessa, not that it was anything more than a one-time thing. Although Vanessa was longing for more. She made that very clear since that time they slept together more than a week ago.

She came to his room a couple of times after, claimed more than one dance at the wrap-up party and just today, in the airport, she held his hand and didn't let go.

If he was honest with himself, he liked the attention. He liked being the object of desire of beautiful women. And Vanessa was a gorgeous woman, and a great person to be around. She had travelled the world and had worked with top-notch actors and directors. But there was no chemistry between them, other than the physical one. There was no special connection. He tried once the relationship thing with her, but he couldn't get around his busy schedule and figured out eventually that he didn't miss her presence.

He could've continued sleeping with Vanessa but had to admit that it didn't feel right to him.

For two reasons.

They were not on the same page. She was looking for a grounded relationship and he wasn't. He didn't want to mislead her into thinking that he might eventually change his mind. He knew it was not going to happen. At least not with her.

And then there was Aïcha. They agreed on being casual with each other, but he didn't like the idea of sleeping around. He wouldn't like the idea of her sleeping around.

It's the right decision, he thought.

He took his phone again and pondered a moment, wondering what to text. Before he could write back, his friend called. They were waiting for him in their usual pub. Tom had forgotten all about their dinner. He grabbed his keys and headed outside, but not before sending Aïcha a text of his own.