LET ME HATE YOU

Mehwish's Plan

Amaan was yanked from the painful memory by the buzz of his phone.

His face was shadowed with a stoic expression, the blast from the past reminding him that Asmaira deserved neither his sympathy nor any other emotion. She had treated Raina worse than an enemy, refusing to listen to her. She had hurt Raina in her dying moments, and for that, he would never forgive her, regardless of how strong her current moral character appeared.

"Ross," he answered when his friend's name flashed on the screen.

"What's up, Captain? Do you still remember your friends?"

Squashing the cigarette under his shoe, Amaan asked, "When will you stop calling me that? We're not in school anymore."

"I'm glad you finally decided to answer my call." Ross was surprised that Amaan had picked up instead of disconnecting, which had been his pattern since Raina's death.

Amaan knew what he meant. "Where are you?"

With the background buzzing with noise, Ross replied, "Our usual spot. The boys are here for our monthly meetup."

Ross was Amaan's school friend, and they, along with their football team, had a tradition. They would try to meet at a specific club—the one they always went to after winning a match—to spend time with each other, away from their private or professional lives. Most of the team members still followed this tradition, even if they had to carve out time for the gathering.

"I'll be there."

Ross's brow shot up, and before he could confirm if he'd heard correctly, Amaan disconnected the call.

Amaan went into his closet to change into casual clothes. Grabbing his car keys, he didn't spare a glance for Asmaira and walked out. It was his fault for remaining with her the entire time, allowing his rationality to drift and his emotions to take over. He needed to create distance so he wouldn't be swayed by her pretense or whatever she was doing.

· · ─ ·✶· ─ · ·

The next day, Asmaira beamed when she wasn't woken up rudely or rushed to get dressed. With Feriha informing her that she didn't have to go to the office, Asmaira thought that with Amaan absent, she could spend her time with Kabir. Her hopes, however, were dashed when she saw Mehwish at breakfast.

"...and this would be Asmaira's first time."

Ishaal's words caught her attention, and she looked at Feriha for an explanation.

"We host a Gala every year. It's more like an auction cum ball. Thoughtful people willingly donate an expensive, personalized item for auction, and the money goes to numerous NGOs. Nothing extravagant," Feriha said, mindful of Asmaira's uneasiness with the elite.

"You are being too humble, Ma. The who's who will be present, and people offer favors just to get invited to our Gala. And it's not only an auction; we have entertainment performances from artists around the globe. Please don't degrade it as a mere auction," Mehwish interjected, causing Feriha to merely purse her lips.

"Did you hear about our Gala, Asmaira?" When Mehwish asked, Asmaira lied, "No."

She had heard of it and always waited for the pictures to be published online. That was the only time she got to see her sister, happy, in the arms of the man she loved. Seeing Raina beaming, Asmaira felt a surge of contentment. Even though her sister didn't bother to contact her, Asmaira still browsed the internet or Page 3 just to get a glimpse of her. Knowing that Raina was happy with her decision had lessened Asmaira's resentment towards her.

"I will design an exclusive dress for Asmaira," Ishaal announced, and having no clue about the dress code, Asmaira simply nodded.

"Alois Rousseau is already on his flight and will be here tomorrow morning. Although my secretary has briefed his team, you need to take him through the mansion and explain your expectations," Salar informed Feriha, grabbing his suit jacket.