. . .

. . .

~

The Prophet Muhammad (SAW) said: "There are three signs of a hypocrite: When he speaks, he lies; when he makes a promise, he breaks it; and when he is trusted, he betrays his trust." (Sahih Bukhari)

~

"I'm surprised that you called me to meet you here."

"Yeah, well, don't mistake my majboori for actually wanting to see your face." Zoya sips her tea and averts her gaze.

Sumaiya settles down in the chair across from her and darts her head around, observing her surroundings. "Nice place." She gestures to the restaurant logo. Tea For Me.

"Yeah, least conspicuous. Because Zoya Zameer would never be caught dead in a Chinese tea shop. What an insult to Pakistani chai." She finally looks at Sumaiya, ignoring the pang in her chest. Her eyebrows furrow when she sees the headscarf wrapped around the woman's head. She gestures to it. "Why are you still wearing that?"

Sumaiya's eyebrows lift. "Excuse me?"

"You heard me."

"I don't understand."

Zoya shrugs. "After everything you've done, you think you still deserve to have that on your head?"

At this, Sumaiya's eyes widen. Surprise etches her face. "Ms. Zoya, I understand you're still angry. You have every right to be. And I don't know how I'll ever be able to tell you how sorry I am, truly — "

"Skip the theatrics. Answer my question."

Sumaiya's lips tremble, but she takes a deep breath. "One mistake doesn't mean I'm destined to be left in the dark forever. That's . . . Shaitan's motto." She darts her eyes up to look at Zoya, as if afraid her religious words will cause her anger. "But God is always merciful. And if I allow myself a second chance and turn to him in repentance, so will He. His doors of mercy and forgiveness are open for me until I stop breathing.

"And . . ." She waves a hand over her appearance. "I'm not wearing this because of who I am. I'm wearing this because of Allah and because of the person that I want to become. Wearing it doesn't make me sinless or perfect, but it ensures that I'm willing to try."

Zoya squints her eyes. "Where was this whole holier than thou attitude when you threw Zameer under the bus? When you betrayed your 'fiancé?'"

Sumaiya sighs heavily, resting her gaze on her lap. "He is what helped set me in the right direction. Through his personality, his faith." She looks back up at Zoya. "I am so, so sorry. Truly. If I could take it all back, I would."

"Mm," Zoya mumbles in a disbelieving tone. Her eyes rake over Sumaiya. "Speaking of second chances, let's get to the point. I need you to do something for me."

Sumaiya's head snaps up, a hopeful look in her eyes at the chance for redemption. "Anything."

Zoya laughs mirthlessly. "You sure about that?"

Now Sumaiya looks wary. "Um . . . "

"Well, it's not like I'm giving you a choice." Zoya takes a sip of her tea and pretends to gag. "Ugh, horrible flavor."

"What is it, Ms. Zoya?" Sumaiya presses.

Zoya flinches. "First of all, don't say my name from your damn mouth." She brings a finger to her lips in contemplation. "You can call me 'miss', or 'your highness.' Second, I need the pictures Zaki threatened you with."

Sumaiya's eyes widen. "What?"

"Let's skip the part where you pretend like you can't hear me."

"I can't give those to you," Sumaiya replies automatically. "You know I can't."

Zoya gives her a a blank stare, then waves a hand in front of her own face. "And what, dear Sumaiya, about my expression gives you the inkling that I give a damn?"

Sumaiya shakes her head wildly back and forth. "The whole reason I was forced to be a spy was because — "

"Save the sob stories for later. You said you wanted redemption, right? That you wanted to be rid of your guilt? Well, think of it this way. If you could reverse time and not do the things you now regret, how would it have went down? Zaki would have released those pictures to the press." Zoya shrugs. "I'm doing the same. It'll be as if all the things you did never happened. All's right in the world."

Sumaiya's forehead etches with worry lines. "It's not just that. If I gave you those pictures, not only will my reputation be at stake, but so will my life. Zaki will harm me."

A giggle bubbles out of Zoya. "He will do no such thing. Because your face and identity won't be disclosed to the press."

"He'll know anyway," Sumaiya whispers. "He's not a fool. He's going to make sure I pay the price."

After a moment's hesitation — during which the two voices in Zoya's head have a short battle — she shrugs. "Well, we all reap what we sow, don't we?" Zoya stares the woman in front of her down, no hint of remorse on her face. And yet that voice nags at her again.

Zoya is determined to ignore it.

Sumaiya's eyes shine with tears.

"This is a way for you to right your wrongs, sweetheart."

Sumaiya gazes down into her lap. She sits still for so long that Zoya rolls her eyes, sighs, and says, "What is so interesting in your damn lap? Enlighten me, please."

Finally, Sumaiya looks up. A single tear rolls down her cheek and Zoya huffs, looking away. She does not like how the sight of that tear causes a strange discomfort in her chest. It makes her angry. She is not supposed to feel that way, especially after what this woman has done.

"Okay," Sumaiya finally whispers. "I'll do it."

"Great!" Zoya beams. She shoves her teacup away from her with a grimace. "Glad this didn't take too long. Otherwise I would have been forced to drink this horrid tea. You know, because somebody is holding me at gunpoint to do what they say." She gives Sumaiya a knowing, cunning look, pays the bill, and stands. "You have twenty-four hours."

And with that, she exits the tea shop with a flourish.

. . .

Six hours after her request, Zoya receives the pictures from a reluctant Sumaiya. She arranges with a very distant Sameer to have them released to the press as soon as possible. When she asks him what his problem is, he simply shrugs and says, "You're just doing the same thing she fell prey to. She told you she didn't have a choice and you wouldn't hear a word of it. Now you have the opportunity to make a different choice, but . . . " He shrugs and looks away.

Ignoring his words of wisdom, Zoya settles for an accusatory tone. "Well, Mr. Righteous, if you're so against this, why are you doing what I say?"

A knock on the office door interrupts their conversation. Bill enters and says, "Haroun just dropped by to return this." He sets a file on the desk by the entrance and leaves the room.

A pang resonates in Zoya's chest when she hears his name. Her heart hurts. It hurts so bad.

But she clears her throat and turns back to Sameer, who seems to be contemplating something after Bill's arrival and the mention of Haroun. "Yes?" she implores. "Answer my question."

After a few moments of deep thought, a new look adorns Sameer's face. A scared but determined look. "You know what?" he says, setting the pictures in his hand on her desk. "I do have another choice."

And then he leaves the room.

Zoya stares at the pictures on her desk, open-mouthed. "Well, Sameer Mirza." She clears her throat, ignoring the conflicted feelings settling in her heart as well as the whispers of her mind's normally dormant voices coming alive. "I'll just have to do this on my own, then." And she picks up the phone to call the journalist.

. . .

When the news about Zaki's alleged affair comes out, the press goes wild. They call it the 'Zaki-Zoya tug-of-war'. Zoya flicks through every news channel in her office, letting out a deep sigh of relief when she sees Zaki Ahmed's face plastered on the screen along with a heavily blurred picture of Sumaiya and her anonymous statement.

Now Zaki will not dare to retaliate. Because if he does, it is an indirect affirmation of his actions. Zoya tells this to a distressed Lucas as well, who merely gives her an angry look.

A feeling settles within her at seeing her rival's life turn upside down. Something a bit close to the satisfaction she has been seeking.

But not quite there.

There is still a wide, gaping chasm of hollowness, an emptiness. Something is urgently missing.

A few hours later, Sameer — who has been minimally speaking to Zoya — barges into her office, breathless.

"What?" Zoya drawls, observing his haphazard appearance.

"There's been an accident."

Zoya closes the file in her hand and stands. "What sort of an accident?"

"A car accident. Sumaiya is in the hospital."

The air whooshes out of Zoya, the cocky smile vanishing from her face. She stares at Sameer, rendered speechless by his announcement. "What?" she finally says in a shaky voice as Sumaiya's words filter through her head.

Zaki will harm me. He's going to make sure I pay the price.

Sameer nods. "She's in the ICU, in critical condition."

Zoya's mouth opens, but her brain seems to have lost the ability to form coherent speech. She stares at him dumbly, unsure of what to do.

She warned you. The voice that has been haunting her for the past few weeks awakens once more. But you called it off as a bluff.

And now she's going to die.

Zoya shakes her head, clearing her throat. She grabs her handbag and pulls out a scarf to wrap around her head. "Let's go," she tells Sameer.

"This is your fault," he says quietly. His voice is scared, but he barrels on. "Do you realize that?"

Zoya whirls around to face him, hand on the doorknob. "No, it's not," she yells fiercely. Is it? "I'm not the one who crashed her car."

"No, but you're the one who could have stopped this from happening," Sameer replies shakily.

At that moment, Zoya wants nothing more than to pounce on Sameer, to hurt him with her words the way she does not want to admit he is hurting her with his. But she takes a deep breath and fights back the urge to yell at him. "Are you taking me to the hospital or not?"

He rushes past her without a word, and she follows him into his car. The drive there is tense and silent, and when they enter the hospital and are escorted to the waiting room, Zoya settles down with a jolt in her knee, a trembling dread in her heart.

This is not my fault.

Is it?

No, it's not.

Could I have stopped this?

It could just be a coincidence.

At this, she snorts out loud, and Sameer throws her a disapproving look.

When the doctor exits Sumaiya's room, Zoya rushes to her. "How is she?"

"She's suffered a lot of internal bleeding and has three broken ribs, but she's stable now."

Zoya releases a breath she hadn't realized she was holding. The doctor walks away, and she stumbles back against the wall for support.

She's alive.

When Zoya gains her bearings, she looks back up at Sameer, unable to meet his eyes for reasons she cannot explain to herself. "No one can know about this, Sameer. Okay?" Her voice is barely a whisper. She cannot explain it, but for some reason she feels ashamed at her request.

He stares her down for a moment, his gaze unwavering. "Whatever you say, Ms. Zoya." There is so much venom in his voice before he turns and walks away.

Zoya stands there with a heavy feeling settling in her chest.

Zaki actually harmed Sumaiya to make a point. He actually had no regard for human life.

Do you have regard for human life? That accusatory voice is back in her head.

She intakes a sharp breath. Yes, I do.

Then why did you allow this to happen?

She begins to tremble with dread.

What would Haroun say? Zoya thinks. He would probably say that it wasn't in any of our control. That it was God's will, right?

She reassures herself by imagining Haroun's voice in her mind. But her face pales when she realizes what he would probably say next.

But Allah gave us the power to make choices.

Zoya closes her eyes and sinks down on the floor against the wall. She presses her palms to her eyelids. Her body begins to shake, and the tears that attest to all the emotions she won't speak begin to flow out of her. She cries and cries, right there on that hospital floor. And everything comes crashing down on her all at once.

Haroun is leaving her life, and she has found no way of trying to keep him of his own will. Sameer — one of the few people Zoya has formed an unspoken attachment with — now abhors her. Her father left her and his absence burns holes in her heart every day.

She has nobody. Nobody to love her. Nobody to care for her.

And when all of this comes crashing down on her overburdened heart, she makes another selfish decision.

And this time, she really believes she has no other choice.

. . .