. . .

. . .

~

"So let not this present life deceive you." (Qur'an 35:5)

~

The next few days are spent in a wild chaos; the designers rush to complete the dresses for the staff, the media office is going crazy with the new reports that have blown up about the prestigious Zoya Zameer, and on the day of the Desi World Fashion Show, Farhan is in a tizzy, walking around giving orders to everyone he sees.

"No, Mark, what the hell are you doing? I said those go in the other truck. The other one. Oh my God." He gestures wildly to Mark, who huffs and turns around.

Farhan turns to the group huddled around the mannequin of one particularly striking sherwani. They look up quickly as he approaches. "What's going on?" he says anxiously. One of the workers looks nervously at the others. "Guys, what is it?"

The worker says, "Nothing, Farhan. We were just —"

Farhan pushes past him and smacks his forehead when he sees the damage. "You ripped the sleeve?"

"We didn't do it!" Another worker says indignantly, giving Farhan a nasty look.

At this moment, Zoya's heels click against the marble floor as she appears at the end of the hallway. She takes one look at the chaotic state everyone is in, raises both her hands to cup her mouth and yells, "Quiet!"

Immediately the loud chatter dies down and everyone's eyes turn to their boss. She shakes her head and approaches the group huddled around the mannequin. Taking one look at the ripped sleeve, a loud sigh escapes her. "Farhan, get me Flora. Now."

Farhan obliges, rushing away quickly. Zoya folds her arms and turns her piercing eyes to each individual in the group. They all look as if they may drop dead at any moment when Zoya says in the quietest voice, "Which one of you good-for-nothings did this?"

Nobody replies, and Zoya rolls her eyes. "You're lucky we have Flora" — they collectively breathe out sighs of relief — "to fix your selfish mistakes." She turns on her heel and begins to walk away when someone behind her whispers, "Does she have to be such a b—"

Zoya turns back so fast that her hair flies around her face, curls bouncing against her shoulders. "Beautiful, amazing queen?" She raises her eyebrows at the man standing to the right, who she knows for a fact was the one who spoke. She tsks at him. "At least wait for me to walk like five feet away before you curse me out, Jordan." Jordan looks down in embarrassment. She turns back around and click clacks away, observing everyone else frantically doing their work.

Her eyes roam around the room, halting on one particular face.

His eyebrows are knitted together, his one dimple creased in concentration as he flips through the papers on his clipboard. When he finds what he's looking for, he uncaps a pen with his mouth and scribbles something on it. Zoya can't help the smile that blooms onto her face.

Even as she notices the weariness and tension enveloping him like a second skin.

"Ms. Zoya?"

She turns suddenly, cheeks reddening. Flora stands in front of her expectantly.

"Oh, right," Zoya clears her throat. "Go fix up that mess, please. And do it quick." She gestures to the mannequin and Flora nods.

Zoya slaps her cheeks when she's sure no one is looking. "Stop it, Zoya Zameer. Why the red cheeks? What the hell is wrong with you?" She takes a deep breath, flips her hair over one shoulder, and straightens her back. "That's right. Back in character."

Farhan approaches her and says, "Ms. Zoya, I'm really worried about the sherwani."

"It's being taken care of, Farhan. Calm yourself."

"But there are also the flowers —"

"Oh, my God, Farhan." Zoya makes a big show of placing her fingers at her temples. "Never consider a job even slightly higher than a mediocre employee's position let alone the CEO." She enunciates each syllable. "I thought you deserved the extended professional experience after having been with us for a while but you're too uptight to handle anything." His eyebrows furrow in hurt as she huffs out a dramatic sigh in classic Zoya Zameer fashion. "Go take a break, please. Mera maghaz naa chaato. Literally, like, back the hell away from me, or I will pull a Jackie Chan on you because your second degree stress is pissing me off."

He walks away from her with that same wounded expression and Zoya rolls her eyes. After checking on everyone — particularly one person whom Farhan has now joined — Zoya makes her way over to Bill. "Bill, everything good?"

Bill nods. "Everything's set. And your dress has been ironed and is being sent to your house."

Zoya gives him a blank expression. "Did I ask for it to be sent to my house?"

Bill furrows his eyebrows. "Uh, is that not what you wanted?"

"If I wanted it sent to my house, I would have asked, Bill Nye. Tell the driver to stay here."

Bill raises his brows. "And you just called Farhan uptight."

Zoya laughs. "Stop defending that guy."

Bill smiles. "Just pointing out the obvious."

"Which is?"

"Come on, did you really not want me to send it to your house? You're just nervous, Ms. Zoya. And you don't have any other way of controlling it so you're walking around pushing your anxiety onto everyone else."

"Oh, my God, you're so right. I should call you by a different name now — Bill Nye the Psychology Guy. Since you're so damn speculative, aren't you?" Zoya narrows her eyes at him.

Bill stares at her, then bursts out laughing. "Bill Nye the Psychology Guy? Very original."

Zoya lifts her hand and moves it in a duck-like motion, signaling that he can keep talking and she won't care. "Jaan, I'm literally the CEO. I've been doing this for too long to get nervous about anything anymore. So thank you for your observation, Freud, but your critical analysis of me is unnecessary. This is a fashion company, not an English class."

Bill holds his hands up defensively. "Hey, I was just saying that —"

"By the way, did you ever believe any of that rubbish our teachers in English class would tell us about what the authors of those novels were saying? They made so many damn speculations that made no sense." She gestures dramatically with her hands and takes on a really high-pitched voice. "'The protagonist is eating these boiled potatoes. Now, these boiled potatoes signify the sufferings and the tribulations life has thrown his way and the way he's eating them signifies —'"

Bill begins to laugh really hard but Zoya freezes suddenly, having looked outside the window while speaking. Her eyes hone in on Farhan and Haroun standing outside the building. All the first-floor bathrooms have been closed for renovation, and Zoya cocks her head to the side as she sees Farhan pouring water over Haroun's hands. It hits her that Haroun is making wudu with a water bottle, leaning down as Farhan continues to pour from it.He seems to have chosen stepping outside for a moment rather than using one of the upstairs bathrooms.

Zoya watches him perform wudu with her feet glued to the ground, absolutely fascinated. He splashes water onto his face three times, then pulls his sleeves back and washes each arm carefully up until his elbow three times. Zoya observes him pass his hands over his head gently and a strange feeling overtakes her, as if she can hear water rushing through her ears. He performs his wudu with so much feeling, so much concentration. In a whirlwind of passion and focus. As if he means —

"Ms. Zoya?"

Zoya breaks out of her stupor, turning to Bill. He has his eyebrows raised at her. She blinks a few times, forgetting where she is and what they were talking about. Her eyes dart back outside, and by now Haroun has finished and he's capping the bottle. He runs his fingers through his hair, drying it as he laughs at something Farhan is saying.

Zoya turns back to Bill, overwhelmed by disorientation and another feeling she can't name.

"Uh, I —" Stop stuttering, Zoya. Confusion doesn't suit you. She quickly says, "I just remembered I have to tell Flora something." And with that, she turns and walks away, leaving Bill looking more baffled than before.

Zoya rushes to Flora, trying to reach her as quickly as possible to distract her muddled mind. The image of Haroun making wudu keeps flashing in her mind's eye, and she shakes her head to try to stop thinking about it.

What about it so unsettled her?

She knows the exact reason, but her mouth is unable to form the words. Her mouth — always ready to puncture and wound and maim with her words — seems at a loss for these very things now. It feels almost insulting to have seen him do wudu with such concentration and say anything harmful afterwards. As if she may destroy the perfect aura that is hanging like a cloud above her head. As if she may disturb the peace, the intense silence.

Zoya collides into Flora, regains her balance, and backs away quickly. She clears her throat. "Have you fixed it?"

Flora gives her a bewildered look. "It's been like five minutes, Ms. Zoya. I'm good, but I'm not that good."

Zoya laughs shakily, trying to get rid of the unsettling feeling that just won't leave her. Back in character, Zoya Zameer. Back in character. "I'm going upstairs. When I come back down, have it done." Flora nods and returns to work.

Before anyone can see the confusion splayed on Zoya's face or hear the way her breathing is rapidly beginning to rise, she makes her way back to her office.

Once there, she leans back in her chair, sets her chin in her hand, and stares across the room at the wall in front of her with furrowed brows.

With thoughtful eyes.

. . .

"Alright, guys." Zoya paces in front of her entire staff, the echo of her heels reverberating throughout the meeting room. "As you all know, tonight is an extremely important night. We are going to be scrutinized from every possible angle, especially after all those wild news reports about me." She pauses before muttering under her breath, "Since — you know — people just love wasting breath in their already miserable lives talking about me." She stares pointedly at everyone and clears her throat, raising her voice again. "We cannot afford any screw ups." This she says while directing her gaze at Farhan, who stares back indignantly. "It's a crucial time that may determine the success or potentially lead to the downfall of this company."

"She literally says this before every event," someone huffs and whispers in the crowd.

Zoya turns to the speaker and smiles. "Correct, Jordan. Thank you for your observation." She twists a curl around her finger. "By the way, you should really break your habit of speaking ill of me literally in front of me. God has given me ears."

Jordan lowers his eyes, cheeks reddening as he shrinks back into the crowd.

"As I was saying, everyone needs to take heed of the importance of this event. I want you all to clean up nicely. And, of course, come wearing the clothes handpicked and designed especially for you." She fluffs her hair. "Because no Zameer Co. employee is going to show up in front of cameras wearing anything but Zameer apparel."

Someone whistles, and the staff begins to clap and let out whoops of excitement. Zoya nods and bows theatrically. "Be on your best behavior, everyone. We've worked too hard for this. You have" — she glances at the clock on the wall — "five hours. See you at the Desi World fashion show. And be on time, otherwise I'll cut from your paycheck," she announces, head held high. Her staff has become used to this empty threat she uses as motivation, and everyone lets out sounds of excitement before dispersing.

Bill stands with Haroun and Farhan, eyebrows scrunched and gaze trained on Zoya. He watches her with such intensity that Haroun squirms.

"You good?" Farhan asks Bill.

Bill shakes his head and a corner of his lips turns up. "She really knows how to make people listen."

Upon hearing the admiration in Bill's voice, Farhan turns to him with a quizzical expression on his face. "You sound awfully impressed," he says suspiciously.

Bill shrugs. "She has a way of articulating herself that — "

"Woah, woah, woah." A grin spreads on Farhan's face. "Don't tell me you also fell into the Zoya Zameer trap?"

Bill shakes his head wordlessly but doesn't meet their eyes.

"Oh, man." Farhan begins to laugh. Even Haroun smiles gently, a faint trace of his dimple appearing. "You fell for Zoya Zameer."

Bill finally looks up. "She may not be the nicest person, but you can't deny the reason this company is successful is because she's running it."

Farhan nods vigorously. "I've been spearheading this project for only three weeks — which still seemed like an eternity. I don't know how she does it."

Haroun smiles absentmindedly. "Right."

Bill continues, "The reason this company is successful is because — quite frankly — Ms. Zoya doesn't give a damn what rival companies think of her. She doesn't give a damn what anyone thinks of her for that matter." His voice reveals raw admiration. "She doesn't allow personal matters to come between her and her work, and I think that's an incredibly important asset to have as the CEO of such a large company. A fashion company, at that. In the fashion industry, people are constantly throwing challenges disguised in compliments at you, and Ms. Zoya artfully dodges these and still manages to make Zameer seem more superior than other businesses. She doesn't let anything get to her."

Farhan chuckles. "Alright, alright, Romeo."

"No, seriously. Why do you think I'm still here despite what everyone says about her attitude?"

"Why do you think I've never finished any of my HR complaints?" Farhan laughs. "Too bad you're just one of her many admirers." The three of them turn to look at Zoya — who has appeared in the lobby and is now speaking intently with Flora. Flora is holding a magnificent sequined dress in her hands, one that Zoya keeps gesturing wildly to.

"She won't even look twice at almost any guy," Farhan murmurs with a smile in his voice, and suddenly Haroun becomes very preoccupied with his watch as Farhan's eyes sear into the side of his head.

Zoya gives Flora an order — to which she obliges — and begins walking towards the three of them. Her heels click clack to a stop in front of Farhan. "Ready for tonight, Goldilocks?"

"Goldilocks?" he replies in confusion.

She rolls her eyes. "Because you need everything to be 'just right.'"

Bill bursts out laughing and even Haroun lets out a few chuckles. Zoya turns her piercing gaze to the latter, and the iciness melts from her eyes almost immediately.

"Yes, I'm ready," Farhan replies in a wounded voice.

"Good. Meri naak na katwaa de na." She turns on her heels and walks away with her curls bouncing against her back.

"Translation?" Bill says somewhat imploringly.

Farhan gives him a dry look.

. . .