Femme Fatale.

11

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"Nahar, where have you been all this time?" she calls out as she races to open the bedroom door. "I've been moping about for hours not knowing what on earth do with myself, missing you, wanting you, and not able to come find you."

She is at the door now, her sheer night robe flowing back from her slim, bare legs and feet. The peaks of her nipples and the crest of hair between her thighs deliciously exposed.

"I really missed you, my love." Carla says,eyes snapping with pleasure, her arms lifting to him.

"Well," Nahar sighs, his eyes running over her scantily clad body, holding her from him so that he might see her better. "What a splendid welcome and what a perfectly delightful outfit,my pet."

They are both surprised by the warmth of their greeting. It is as if they haven't been with each other just five hours ago. His arms crush her to him, his own eyes bright with admiring pleasure. Their lips meet and cling, tongues touching, warm and unhurried. He swings her up in his arms, holding her firmly, possessively.

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Songs for the chapter:
i. Moonlight - Ariana Grande
ii. Free the animal - Sia
iii. See you - Johnny Orlando

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Mother, who is obsessive over everything, adopts a new habit. She sits with her head half cocked listening to Leyla all the time. When Nina takes the baby to change her, Mother looks even more ridiculous, sulking, never sitting straight. It's as if her looking like a hound on point will make the maid bring her baby any quicker. She says she wants Leyla to always stay so small, so perfect, so adorable.

Leyla herself is nothing but a little drama queen. It must all be done to her direction or else she throws a tantrum. She is a tyrant in the making. She only stops fretting when she is dressed in fine clothes, embroidered by the best seamstress. And the bed linen the little empress reclines on! She is every inch a veritable cardinal. Even her baby towels have her initials. Shawn playfully calls her a pope of the nursery.

I become quite ecstatic and start indulging Leyla even more when I notice her eyes changing colour from the dark blue of birth to a darker indigo, almost black, like mine. I smile knowing that she will be a dark eyed beauty like her sharp tempered reckless sister. She even has my nose! Perhaps we can be partners in crime the moment she starts to talk.

As soon as Mother recovers from the birth she is enchanting, bright and active and one afternoon when she is engrossed in planning the christening of baby Leyla which is to take place on Sunday, Father gives her a most extraordinary gift.

He buys her a room full to the brim with the most expensive fabrics for her gowns and even hires her a private seamstress. He gives her the key to the room and watches her as she goes in and exclaims in delight at the rich swathes of colour swagged from one golden pole to another.

I spend the days that follow with Mother, giving orders to the seamstress on how our gowns should be designed for the christening. Mother wears herself to a shadow trying to organise the feast that we are to host after Leyla's christening.