FF: All the Right Moves - Chapter 14, page 129 - COMPLETE - Page 57

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CHAPTER ELEVEN

"Najma? Najma, please stay calm," Zoya pleads, even though her own voice rises with anxiety. "Mr. Khan and I are on our way. We'll be with you soon."

"Ammi, we're on our way right now," Asad speaks to Dilshad on his cell phone as he maneuvers into the traffic. "Yes, she's okay. Ms. Farooqui is talking to her now."

Zoya tucks her phone into the crook of her neck and reaches out for Asad's phone. He hands it over to concentrate on driving, weaving through the slow-moving traffic and endless wave of people, many screaming and waving signs supporting or denouncing Rohan.

"Phupee? Najma is fine," Zoya reassures her. "She says the trouble is outside the college. There's a crowd on the street and they were getting violent. Officials closed the school to protect the students. The police are already there and breaking up the crowd."

"Why didn't she call me?" Dilshad's voice is near tears. "I can't get through to her!"

"The circuits are filled with students calling their families. I'm on the other line with her now, Phupee," Zoya soothes. "She called me because she knew we were closer and can pick her up sooner. We're getting her now. Don't worry, Phupee."

"I'll stop worrying when my children are back in my arms." Dilshad's voice quivers with suppressed tears. "I want you all home safe, Zoya. Do you understand? I want you home immediately."

"Yes, Phupee, we're on our way," Zoya agrees. "Please don't worry. You know Mr. Khan won't let anything happen to our Tamatar. As soon as we pick up Najma, we'll come directly home. What about you, Phupee? Where are you?"

Dilshad takes a deep breath and her voice calms. "I'm still at the orphanage but I'm about to leave now."

"Phupee, is there anyone who can be with you until we get home?" Zoya asks anxiously. "I don't want you to be alone. What about Mrs. Reddy? Is she there? Can she stay with you?"

"Mrs. Reddy is here," Dilshad confirms, her voice regaining some of its usual calm serenity. "She's the one who told me about the police being sent to the college. Don't worry about me. I'm okay now that I know you're getting Najma. Come home right away."

"Yes, Phupee. I promise. We'll be right home as soon as we pick up Najma." Zoya looks up. "In fact, we're nearly there now. There's a lot of traffic but the police are on the scene. It looks calm now so I think the police have already broken up the crowd. I'll call you as soon as we have Najma."

"Okay." Dilshad sighs with relief. "Please hurry and be safe."

"We will, Phupee." Zoya disconnects with Dilshad and puts Asad's phone down on the center console. She shifts her own phone from the crook of her neck to her hand. "Najma, I'm going to put you on speaker now."

She turns on the speaker function and holds the phone close to Asad.

"Najma?" Asad's voice is tense but controlled. "Are you okay?"

"I'm fine, Bhaijaan," Najma responds but her voice is also strained. "My friends and I are in the canteen, away from the trouble. Will you be able to take them home, too?"

"Of course," Asad assures her. "We'll be there as soon as possible."

"Thank you, Bhaijaan. Let me know when you get to the back entrance and we'll come out to the gate."

Asad's tense shoulders relax. "We're on our way, Tamatar. We'll be there soon."

Zoya puts her phone down on the center console next to Asad's and looks around. She bites into her lower lip as she studies the throng of people milling around. "There are lot more people here than usual. What's going on here?"

Asad shrugs, concentrating on the traffic.

"I didn't hear that, Zoya," Najma says. "We're walking outside. There's a lot of noise in here."

Zoya raises her voice. "We're still nearly a mile away from your college. I said it's odd that there are so many people here. Was there a special event today?"

"Not that I know of," Najma responds. "We have exams in less than two weeks. No one has time to concentrate on anything but their studies."

Zoya looks around again and sees a woman hugging a stack of Rohan's posters to her body. She looks to be in her late twenties and isn't carrying school books or a backpack. Zoya flashes back to earlier when she and Asad left the college.

Asad merges into traffic and nods to the tall brick wall surrounding the college. "It looks like we're not the only ones who have a problem with Rohan Saxena."

Zoya leans over to see. Workers are sticking up some of Rohan's sports posters but they are having trouble keeping them up. They are surrounded by a large group who are tearing down the posters. Some are even trying to take the posters away from the beleaguered workers.

"Najma, do you know where the trouble started?" Zoya asks.

"It was just in front of the main gates," Najma says. "That's why the gates are shut and I have to meet you at the back entrance. Why do you ask?"

Zoya glances at Asad. "No reason."

"This has to do with Rohan, doesn't it? His fans were stealing posters from the workers who were trying to put them up." Asad's grip on the steering wheel tightens. "If Rohan has anything to do with this, I won't spare him."

"Stay calm, Mr. Khan," Zoya pleads. "We don't know what happened. No one is going to riot over a few silly posters. There has to be something else. How could--"

He turns the corner and slams on the brakes. His arm instinctively shoots out to protect her from being thrown forward. Still, she yelps in pain as the sudden action jerks her seatbelt, even with Asad's arm holding her shoulders back against her seat.

"Zoya!" Asad turns to her, his eyes wide and his face tight with anxiety.

"Zoya?" Najma sounds just as anxious. "What happened? Are you okay?"

"I'm okay," Zoya gasps and cradles her sore arm. "The traffic stopped suddenly and my arm jerked. What did--"

She looks up and her mouth drops open. The traffic is at a complete standstill, police vehicles, taxis and private cars filling the road like a parking lot. At the end of the street, directly across from the college, is the source of the chaos -- a new billboard of Rohan Saxena.

Like the previous newspaper ad, it shows Rohan nearly naked and on his knees reaching for a sports drink held in a woman's hand. This time, he's barely covered in strips of leather, including straps around his neck, wrists and bare thigh. Submit to the maXXX...sportsmaXXX is written in blood-red ink over the picture. Even as they watch, someone throws red paint on the photo. It doesn't do anything to distort the image, in fact, the dripping paint gives the effect of real blood, further enhancing the bondage theme.

"Allah miya," Zoya gasps.

"What is it?" Najma demands. "Zoya, what's going on?"

Zoya looks at Asad. His face is almost as red as the paint dripping down Rohan's lean, naked torso.

"That...that..." Asad is so enraged he can barely form words. He pulls out of the traffic and stops on the side street.

"Mr. Khan, what are you doing?" Zoya demands. "We have to get Najma!"

It takes Asad a moment to find his voice. "I can't drive any closer on the main road," he points out, breathing deeply to maintain control of himself. "That filth has brought this area to a standstill."

"Do you mean Rohan or the billboard?" Zoya asks uneasily.

Asad glares at her.

"What billboard?" Najma demands. "Zoya, what's going on?"

"There's a new billboard of Rohan up across from your college," Zoya explains. "That's why there are so many people here. They all want to see the new picture."

"He promised," Asad snarls. "He promised there would be no more of that po*nography. Not only is there another photograph but it's worse than the one before!"

Zoya picks up Asad's phone and snaps a picture of the billboard.

"What are you doing?" Asad demands.

"I want to study the billboard," Zoya explains, already enlarging the picture on Asad's cell phone.

"Ms. Farooqui!" Asad roars.

She jerks and looks up. "What?" She sees his fury. "Allah miya, what's wrong with you, Mr. Khan? I'm not looking at the picture. I'm looking at the graphics. The picture is too blurry for me to be certain, but I think it's the same image as before with new...umm...accessories. See how his hip and thigh don't match up, just like in the last picture?"

Asad puts the SUV back in gear. "I don't care to see Rohan Saxena, ever." He speaks through gritted teeth. "That man had done nothing but bring trouble from the moment he came to Bhopal."

"You say the same thing about me," she points out gently.

Asad glances at her. "The difference, Ms. Farooqui, is that you attract trouble because you put everyone else's problems and concerns before your own. Rohan causes trouble because he doesn't care about anyone beyond himself."

"Mr. Khan, we don't know that. If it's the same image, then it's not Rohan's fault. He can't stop them from using an image he already gave them permission to use."

"Why are you defending him?" Asad demands.

"I'm not defending him, I'm protecting you. It's always about you!" Zoya snaps back.

Asad's whole body jerks and he almost hits a parked car. He corrects his SUV at the last second and focuses on the road, his white-knuckled grip on the steering wheel tightening. There are less people and traffic on the side road so the vehicles are moving but very slowly.

"Ms. Farooqui, you can't say things like that when I'm driving," he scolds, but his voice is warm and his eyes even warmer when he glances at her. "It interferes with my concentration."

"I don't see why. I'm not saying anything you don't already know." Zoya's voice is soft and serious. "It's always about you, Phupee and Najma. Everything I've done has been to protect you. Your anger can destroy all that. You have to stay calm, Mr. Khan. You've just seen a small demonstration of Rohan's influence. These people are going insane over his picture. We cannot give them a reason to go insane over Rohan himself."

Asad stares straight ahead, focused on the road, his jaw clenched so tightly the muscle throbs. She reaches out to touch his rigid arm. He glances briefly at her hand encircling his wrist but keeps his attention on the road.

"We agreed, Mr. Khan," she says quietly. "We agreed that we'd support each other. You have to support me now. I can't do this without you. Please. I need you."

"You don't have to ask. You know I'll support you." He sighs heavily. "I'll do anything for you. But what you're asking me to do..."

He shakes his head. Zoya's eyes are moist with sympathy.

"I know." She squeezes his wrist. "I'm asking you to stop being yourself. I'm sorry."

"Don't be sorry." Asad releases the wheel long enough to stroke her hand. "It's not your fault. I'll do what I can but I do have my limits, Ms. Farooqui. It's taking everything I have not to strangle him after what he's put us through."

Asad glances pointedly at her injured arm. Zoya shifts, as if by hiding it, she can make him forget it.

Asad isn't about to forget -- or forgive.

"First you got hurt protecting him, now Najma went through a terrible scare because of him and he can still turn Ammi into a mob target." Asad shakes his head. "Is there no limit to the damage he can do to us?"

"Again, none of these things are directly Rohan's fault." Zoya releases Asad's arm and settles back into her seat. "I know you're angry with him but he's not to blame for my injury or the behavior of crazed fans."

Asad's jaw is rigid and he stares straight ahead. "But he is to blame for coming into our home under false pretense and lying to us."

"Yes, he is," Zoya agrees in a soothing voice. "We'll find out why. But we can't confront him without absolute proof. Until we have that, we must be calm. Can you do that, Mr. Khan? For Phupee's sake? For our sake?"

"We're here." Asad stops by the back entrance to Najma's college. He puts the SUV into park and rubs his forehead. Then he looks over at Zoya and sighs. "And, yes, Ms. Farooqui. As long as Rohan doesn't push me any further, I'll stay calm. But one more misstep..."

Asad trails off but the warning is clear. Zoya nods.

"I understand, Mr. Khan. You've gone through so many shocks in such a short time. I know last night was horrible for you. If our situations had been reversed and you'd stumbled into my arms soaked in blood, I'd--"

She breaks off with a sob and stops speaking. Her eyes fill with tears and she presses her good hand to her mouth. Asad watches her, his own eyes glittering with remembered horror.

"Yes," he chokes out. "That's exactly what it was like for me."

"I'm so sorry, Mr. Khan," she whispers. "I didn't mean to put you through that. Ever. It just happened."

Asad releases his seatbelt and leans over the console. He brushes her tears away and strokes her face. She gives him a watery smile in gratitude.

"It happened because, as usual, you put everybody else ahead of yourself, Ms. Farooqui." He cups her cheek. "You don't always have to be the one to sacrifice. I have broad shoulders. I can take on a lot of your burdens."

"You shouldn't have to." She tips her head, nuzzling her cheek against his hand. "You do so much for me already. I want to help carry your burdens, not give you mine."

"Isn't that the whole point of supporting each other?" He pulls back to look into her eyes, his hand leaving her face. "I can't fight what I don't know. Do you still plan to keep things from me?"

"No, that's not what I meant!" She grabs his jacket collar with her good hand and leans closer, unwilling to accept even a small distance between them. "You know I've always relied on you. I just want you to know you can rely on me, too."

He smiles at her, his heart in his eyes, and kisses her forehead. "I know."

She throws her good arm around his neck and hugs him tightly. They're quiet for a long moment then Zoya sees Najma and two other girls coming to the gate. She pulls away from Asad.

"There's Najma and her friends. I wonder how she knew we were here." Then Zoya stiffens and her eyes widen.

Asad stares at her. Together they look down at Zoya's cell phone. The speaker is still on. They both look to Najma walking out the back gate. She has her cell phone to her ear and her expression is carefully blank.

Zoya swallows heavily and disconnects the call. "She heard us. Now she knows."

Her face flushes pink and she bites into her lower lip. Asad sighs and rubs his forehead. Then he looks over to watch Najma approach.

"No, not now." He corrects as he studies his sister, her light, quick steps and her bright, intelligent eyes. "I think she figured it out long before we did."

***

"Dilshad-ji, please don't worry," Rohan soothes "Zoya called and said they're on their way home. They have Najma and she's fine."

Dilshad is seated on the living room sofa, eyes closed, fingertips pressed against her temples, strain evident on her lovely face. Both the house phone and her cell phone are ringing incessantly but she ignores them.

Rohan stands behind the sofa and pats her shoulder comfortingly. "Should I disconnect the phones?"

"No! Asad, Zoya or Najma may call again. I don't want to miss their call." She squeezes Rohan's hand. "Thank you for coming home so quickly. I don't know what I'd have done if you hadn't been free. There is no one else I know who understands."

"You don't have to thank me." He turns his hand over to squeeze hers in return. "You've done so much for me that I couldn't repay you in a dozen lifetimes."

"Nonsense." Dilshad releases him to press her fingers against her temples again, ignoring the dual phones ringing in shrill chorus. "Your commitment and support for the children and the orphanage has changed their lives. All I did was guide you to the door."

"I already knew where the door was, Dilshad-ji," Rohan reminds her. "I just...didn't know how to enter again."

Dilshad turns to look at him with worried eyes. "Rohan, you know I respect your privacy but I see the suffering in your eyes. I know something is causing you terrible pain. I don't mean to pry but sometimes our fears and burdens ease when we share them with others."

Rohan looks away. "Many people ask me about my life but I know they only want a story, something shocking and sensational they can use to sell newspapers and magazines. They don't actually care about me."

"Do you think I'm like that, Rohan? That I'm motivated by greed or curiosity?" Dilshad gets up and touches his face, forcing him to look at her. "I've known you for three years, Rohan. Have I ever betrayed your confidence?"

"No, Dilshad-ji." He meets her eyes. "You're the only person I've met in a very long time who I believe truly cares about me. That's why I came to Bhopal. I wanted you to be proud of me."

"And I am." Dilshad smiles and takes his hands in hers. "The joy and prestige you've given to the children, to the orphanage and even to Bhopal are beyond measure. You've made me very, very proud."

The sad, broken little boy looks out of Rohan's pale blue eyes. He ducks his head but not before Dilshad sees the desperate pain and loneliness in his soul.

"I wish you could always be proud of me, Dilshad-ji." He releases her hands and steps back.

She frowns. "Why wouldn't I be? What have you done that you think I wouldn't approve of or won't understand?"

"I'm so sorry, Dilshad-ji," he whispers, his voice tight and aching. "I'm so sorry for the mistakes I've made but I can't take them back. I try to atone but it doesn't work. Every day, I pay penance but God doesn't forgive me."

"Atone for what, Rohan?" Dilshad touches his cheek again. "What have you done that causes you so much pain?"

"I try but I can never fix my mistakes," Rohan whispers. "Like this billboard. I stopped the photos, Dilshad-ji. I did but still they came back, even worse than before. All of my mistakes are like that. They all amplify and come back to hurt me over and over again."

"This billboard? Rohan, how can you let something this minor hurt you? We can fix this." Dilshad's voice is brisk and reassuring. "All we need to do is hire someone to take it down."

"We?" Rohan looks up.

"Of course we'." She puts her hands on her hips. "Did you think we'll abandon you just because you made a mistake?"

He opens his mouth but says nothing. His eyes become suspiciously bright and he looks down again. Dilshad pats his arm.

"Asad owns a construction company. He can easily find someone to take down the sign. We just need to wait for him to come home." Dilshad gives him an encouraging smile. "See? Problems have solutions when we work them out together."

Rohan stares at her for a long moment. Then he takes a deep breath, his spine straight and the shadows receding from his eyes. The little boy disappears and the polished superstar returns. "No, Asad doesn't need to fix this. My agent does. I'll call him right now."

Dilshad studies him carefully but the anxiety is gone from Rohan's eyes. Her eyes are dark and worried but she smiles and nods as Rohan takes out his cell phone.

She turns on the television to watch the news, ignoring the ringing phones. The television reporter is standing in front of the billboard and gesturing to the angry crowd behind her. Some people are holding up signs defending Rohan while others are covered in red paint and waving their hands angrily. She closes her eyes and massages her temples again.

Rohan paces behind the sofa, his cell phone to his ear. "I don't care, Arun," he snaps. "I want that billboard taken down, immediately. Are you watching the news? Everybody's going crazy. Forget about the money. I'll pay to have it removed. In fact, I'll tear it down myself if I have to."

Just then Asad, Zoya and Najma enter the Khan Villa. Asad slams the front door shut and glares at Rohan. Rohan stops in mid-tirade to look at them. Dilshad's eyes pop open. She jumps up from the sofa. Najma flies across the room and into her mother's waiting arms.

"Najma!" Dilshad hugs her fiercely then pushes her back to study her. "Are you hurt?"

"No, Ammi, I'm fine," Najma reassures her as Dilshad pulls her in for another hug. "All the trouble was outside the college. We weren't in any danger."

"Allah ka shukar hai." Dilshad finally eases her grip on Najma and looks past her. "My family is safe."

She holds out her arm to Zoya and Asad while keeping Najma close to her. They come to join her and share a group hug. Finally Dilshad breaks the hug and turns to look at Rohan, her arm still around Najma. He stands behind the sofa, shoulders hunched and eyes downcast, his cell phone held against his chest.

"Rohan, they're fine." Dilshad laughs and holds out her hand to him. "Just like you said they'd be."

"Yes, Dilshad-ji." Rohan takes her hand and squeezes it gently before he releases it. "I knew they would be."

"Why do we have all this noise?" Asad turns off the television and reaches for the ringing phone.

"Asad, no!" Dilshad tries to stop him but Asad has already answered the call.

"Hello?" He listens for a moment, his face flushing red. "No, we have no comment. Do not call us again!" He slams the phone down. Immediately, it rings again.

"There's no point in answering the phone, Asad." Dilshad sighs. "It's either reporters asking for our opinion of Rohan's billboard or people telling us their opinions."

"And your cell phone?" Asad asks, his voice sharp with controlled anger. He yanks the phone cord out of the wall.

Dilshad shuts her cell phone off. "It's community members and donors calling to give me their opinions. I didn't turn off my phone before in case one of you called."

"You!" Asad turns on Rohan. "This is all your fault! You said you'd stop that disgusting photo. Instead of stopping, it's now plastered on a bulletin board across from my sister's college, even more disgusting than before."

Rohan puts his hands up in an appeasing gesture. "I know, Asad. I'm sorry about that."

"Sorry?" Asad repeats, closing the distance between them. "That's not good enough. There were people fighting in front of the gates. What if the fighting had gotten into the college? Do you have any idea what could have happened to Najma or to the other students?"

Rohan shakes his head, still calm. "I didn't know about the picture until after the bulletin board had already gone up. I'm trying to have it taken down."

"Why was it up in the first place?" Asad demands. He stops less than a foot away from Rohan. "You said your agent put a stop to it."

"He did," Rohan insists. "SportsMaXXX agreed to pull the advertising. But the billboard was already commissioned and the company contracted to put it up went ahead anyway. There was a mix up somewhere in the communication."

"A mix up?" Asad repeats. His hands clench into fists. "There was a riot because of that po*nographic filth and you think it was just a little mix up? People were hurt. Najma was almost hurt. Don't you care about anyone but yourself?"

Dilshad and Zoya join them while Najma watches from the safety of the sofa, her eyes wide. Zoya slips between Rohan and Asad while Dilshad puts her hand on Asad's arm. Rohan takes a step back, still maintaining his composure. Asad is rigid with barely leashed fury.

"Mr. Khan, please," Zoya soothes. "This isn't Rohan's fault. He thought the matter was resolved. He did all that he could."

"No, he didn't!" Asad lashes out. "He could have paid more attention when he posed for that advertisement or when he signed the release for those pictures. But no! He didn't care how much those images would offend people. He only wanted more publicity for himself, never mind who he hurt in the process!"

"Not according to the internet." Zoya holds up her phone. "Some people are offended by the image but many support it as free expression. Some protestors were throwing red paint on the picture. Others were trying to stop the paint-throwers. That's why there was the fighting."

"I don't care!" Asad shouts. "Haven't you already suffered enough for him?"

"Suffered?" Dilshad repeats. "What do you mean? How has Zoya suffered for Rohan?"

"He's the reason she's hurt!" Asad roars, finally losing the last vestiges of his control. "First his actions hurt Ms. Farooqui and now they've terrified Najma. Next he's going to turn on you!"

Zoya's mouth drops open in horror. She looks from Asad's reckless anger to Dilshad's puzzled frown to Rohan's blank confusion.

"I didn't do anything to Zoya," Rohan protests. "And that billboard is not my fault!"

"You're a coward, Rohan Saxena," Asad snarls. "First you allow Ms. Farooqui to fight your battles then you don't even have the decency to own up to your mistakes."

"Mr. Khan!" Zoya gasps. "Stop! Please don't say anymore!"

"Decency?" Rohan, who had been calm until now, flushes with his own fury. "Of course, you can talk about decency, Asad. You get to live in this happy home, pass judgment on everyone you meet and lord over these three women whose lives revolve around you. You have the luxury of decency."

Zoya gasps, seeing the blinding fury in Asad's eyes. She pushes Rohan back, away from Asad. Asad tries to grab Rohan's throat but Zoya is in the way.

"Are you insulting my family? Haven't they sacrificed enough for you?" Asad demands. "Ms. Farooqui, get out of my way. I told you what would happen if he provoked me!"

"No!" Zoya wraps her good arm around Asad's waist. "You'll kill him, Mr. Khan!"

"Yes, I will," Asad vows, his body trembling with rage.

He tries to reach for Rohan again but he's hampered by his unwillingness to hurt Zoya. She holds on tightly, her fingers digging into his back to maintain her grip.

"Asad, stop!" Dilshad wraps both hands around Asad's arm to try to hold him back. "Rohan is a guest in our house."

"No, let him go," Rohan orders. "I'll fight my own battles."

"No!" Zoya refuses to let go of Asad. "He's not going to attack you while I'm holding him. He won't hurt me."

"Are you sure?" Rohan lashes out, his voice harsh and brittle.

Zoya stiffens but her hold on Asad is still tight. "What?"

"Are you sure he won't hurt you?" Rohan ask, some of the anger fading from his eyes. "After all, you're not really family, are you?"

Zoya looks from him to Asad, who has also stilled at Rohan's words. She looks back at Rohan.

"What...what do you mean?" she demands.

"Think about it, Zoya. Asad, Najma and Dilshad-ji share blood. That's what makes them a family," Rohan points out. "What are you to them?"

"I am family." Zoya shakes her head. "My Jeeju arranged for me to stay here."

"Doesn't that make you a guest, like me?" Rohan is calm again. "This is all just an illusion."

"What are you talking about?" Asad demands, some of the anger draining out of him. "What's an illusion?"

Rohan holds Zoya's gaze. "We pretend we're normal, but we aren't. We always have that hole we can never fill, no matter how much we give or sacrifice. We want to fill that empty place so badly that we put up with people or situations, no matter how painful or abusive, just to have the illusion." Rohan looks around the house, his mouth twisted into a bitter grimace. "Even when we know it isn't real."

"No, I'm not just a guest." Zoya shakes her head. "I belong. I do!"

Asad sees the tears spring into her eyes and his face flushes with angry color. He wraps his arm around her and twists so she's hidden from Rohan.

"How dare you say such things to Ms. Farooqui?" Asad snaps. "I've already said numerous times that she is part of our family. She belongs here. You don't."

Rohan nods. "Alright then."

He turns and heads for the front door. Dilshad hurries after him.

"Rohan, wait!" she pleads. "Please, let's talk about this."

"There's nothing to talk about, Dilshad-ji." Rohan opens the door but pauses long enough to give her a bitter smile. "Asad has said all there is to say."

Gently he shuts the door on Dilshad's protest. She is left staring at the closed door, her mouth hanging open. She turns to Asad, hands on hips. Zoya detangles herself from Asad and steps back. She exchanges grim glances with Najma.

"Oh, Mr. Khan," she whispers. "What have you done?"

***

A short time later Zoya comes into Asad's room. He's changed out of his suit and into sweat pants and a t-shirt. He's pounding away at his boxing set, his body gleaming with a light coating of sweat.

"Mr. Khan, please stop," she pleads. "Your being angry isn't helping anything."

Asad continues to attack his boxing bag. "It's either this or Rohan's head."

"Rohan's gone now," she reminds him.

"I know," Asad says. "But I saw his suitcase and toiletries when I got my boxing set out of his room. He'll be back."

She comes closer to him. "I don't think so. They were all brand new. He could be gone for good."

Asad grunts and keeps his concentration on the bag. His punches are hard but steady, showing his control over himself and his actions. Zoya watches him for another moment. Finally she sighs.

"We may have lost Rohan but we still have the abandoned lot as a clue. Rohan was very interested in that lot. Maybe that will help us understand what he wants," she suggests.

Asad grunts again, his punches focused and rhythmic.

She holds up her iPad. "Raabert sent me the location. I tried to find information about it on the internet but India isn't fully computerized yet. Not all records are available online. There's almost nothing here about NAAS Properties."

Asad's punch swings wide, missing the bag altogether and throwing him off balance. He lurches to the side. Zoya skips back to avoid him bumping into her.

"What's the matter, Mr. Khan? Why do you look like that?"

Asad's face is suddenly ashen. "What did you say?"

"I said I can't find much about NAAS Properties." Zoya flips the tablet so he can see the screen. "That's the company that owns the abandoned lot. Have you heard of it?"

Asad stares at the screen as if seeing a ghost. "Yes."

"And?"

"It's a holding company belonging to Mr. Rashid Ahmed Khan." Asad's voice is so cold it has no inflection. "He used it to buy properties under our names. NAAS stands for Najma and Asad."

Zoya stares at him "You and Najma own the abandoned lot?"

"No, we haven't claimed anything from him." Asad starts pulling off his gloves. "Mr. Rashid Ahmed Khan could only buy property in our names until we turned eighteen. Now that we're both older, he can't continue to do it."

"I don't understand, Mr. Khan." She shakes her head. "If he bought them in your names, don't they become your properties now? You said your Abbu never gave you anything. Now you're saying he gave you and Najma properties?"

"He is not my Abbu, Ms. Farooqui!" Asad throws the gloves aside and heads for his washroom. "And I didn't know he did it until after Ammi was shot. She showed me a file of properties that he bought under NAAS Properties."

Zoya follows him. "So who owns the properties now?"

"No one." Asad splashes water on his face. "He can't claim them and Najma and I don't want them. Like you said, India isn't computerized, especially with past records, so the authorities don't care about dormant properties as long as taxes are paid on time and no one tries to claim them."

She waits by the door. "But if someone else wanted them, what would they have to do?"

He thinks as he pats his face dry. "They'd have to produce the original property deed, show a contract to sell the lot, pay the outstanding taxes and have the property transferred into their name."

"Don't they need the seller to appear as well?" Zoya asks. "What about proof that the property is theirs to sell?"

Asad shrugs. "Anyone can stand up and claim to be the property owner. Those papers are easy enough to fake. It happens all the time. It only becomes an issue if the real owner comes forward after the fact."

"That wouldn't have happened because neither you nor Najma even knew you owned the lot. So all the buyer really needs is the original property deed. The rest can be faked." Zoya sucks in her breath. "Mr. Khan, where is the deed for the lot now?"

Asad stiffens. "Ammi has the folder. It's up in her room."

"Mr. Khan, I think we've just figured out what Rohan Saxena was looking for in our home." She releases her breath on a deep sigh. "Now we have to figure out why before all of Bhopal goes up in flames."

Author's Notes: As always, all mistakes are mine and made accidentally. This story is not intended to hurt anyone's feelings, culture or beliefs. Much thanks to my wonderful beta readers for their support, assistance and endless patience!

I'm sorry to post this chapter late. Life has gotten very busy now that we're preparing to visit India for a month. I'm looking forward to relaxing, shopping, eating street food and getting new story ideas!

Thanks to everyone who posted feedback and sent private messages. I appreciate your patience while my betas and I prepared this chapter. I hope the chapter meets your expectations and was worth the wait.

Take care,

Paly

do i expect for an update? I see u online :D