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Originally posted by: aarzoo50
tumhara maths b kharaab hai kya pinky... mjhe laga tha only amna is weak in maths ... days count krne mai gadbad krti hai... but tum bhi!!!
naani hu logo ki... age kya hogi sonch lo 🤣
Part 49
"Good morning," Phyllis said, her forehead creasing in a worried frown as Zoya walked past her Monday morning without her usual greeting, two hours late for work. "Is anything wrong?" she asked, getting up from her new desk outside the president's office and following Zoya inside. Jas, who'd been Ghafoor Siddiqui's secretary for twenty years, had decided to take a long-overdue vacation while her employer was on leave.
Zoya sat down at her desk, leaned her elbows on it, and massaged her temples. Everything was wrong. "Nothing, really. I have a slight headache. Do I have any phone messages?"
"A pile of them," Phyllis said. "I'll get them, and I'll bring you some coffee too. You look like you could use some."
Zoya watched Phyllis leave, and she leaned back in her chair, feeling like she'd aged a hundred years since she'd left this office on Friday. Besides having lived through the most cataclysmic weekend of her life, she'd also managed to demolish her pride by going to bed with Asad, betraying her fianc, and then compounding her wrongs by running away and leaving Asad a note. Guilt and shame had haunted her throughout the drive home, and to finish it all off nicely, she'd actually thought she was being followed by some demented Pune patrolman who slowed down whenever she did, stopped for gasoline when she did, and then stayed behind her until she lost sight of him a few blocks from her apartment. By the time she got home she was a mass of guilt and shame and fear"and that was before she played back the messages on her answering machine and listened to the ones from Ayaan.
He'd called Friday night to say that he missed her and needed to hear the sound of her voice. His Saturday morning message had been mildly confused at her lack of reply. Saturday night he'd been worried by her silence, and he'd asked if her father had gotten ill on his cruise. Sunday morning he said he was alarmed and that he was going to call Humairah. Unfortunately, Humairah had evidently explained that Zoya had gone to see Asad on Friday to tell him the truth and get things straightened out. Ayaan's sunday night message was furious and hurt: "Call me, dammit!" he'd said. "I want to believe you have a legitimate reason for spending the weekend with Khan, if that's what you've done, but I'm running out of excuses." Zoya sustained that part better than his next words, which were filled with confusion and tenderness, "Darling, where are you, really? I know you aren't with Khan. I'm sorry I said that, my imagination is running wild. Did he agree to a divorce? Has he murdered you? I'm terribly worried about you."
Zoya closed her eyes, trying to banish the sensation of impending doom so that she could attempt to get on with her day. The note she'd left Asad had been cowardly and childish, and she couldn't understand why she'd been unable to stay there until he woke up and then say good-bye to him like a mature adult. Every time she went near Asad Ahmad Khan, she said and did things that she'd never do under ordinary circumstances"foolish, wrong, dangerous things! In less than forty-eight hours with him, she'd thrown away her scruples and forgotten about things that mattered to her, like decency and principles. Instead, she'd gone to bed with a man she didn't love, and she had betrayed Ayaan. Her conscience was on a rampage.
She thought of the way she'd responded to him in bed, and bright color ran up her pale cheeks. At eighteen she'd been awed by the fact that Asad seemed to know all the right places to touch her, all the right things to whisper to her, in order to drive her into a frenzy of defenseless desire. To discover, when she was twenty-nine, that he could still do it"only much more so"filled her with despondent shame. Yesterday she'd practically begged him for a climax"she, who was helplessly modest in bed with her own fiance.
Zoya drew herself up short. These sorts of recriminations, these thoughts, weren't fair to either Asad or her. The things she'd told him yesterday had shaken him deeply. They'd gone to bed together as a way to ... to console each other. He had not merely used that as an excuse to get her into bed. At least, she thought a little wildly, it hadn't seemed like it at the time.
She was doing it again, she realized in frustrated alarm"losing focus, concentrating on all the wrong things. It was counterproductive to sit, on the verge of tears, filled with remorse and obsessed with anything as silly as his sexual expertise. She needed to take action, to do something to banish this strange, nameless panic that had been growing inside her from the moment she'd left Asad's bed. At four o'clock that morning she'd arrived at certain conclusions, and she'd made a decision. Now she needed to stop going over the problems and follow through with that decision.
"I had to wait for a fresh pot of coffee to brew," Phyllis said, heading toward Zoya's desk with a steaming mug in one hand and a fistful of pink message slips in the other. "Here are your messages. Don't forget, you rescheduled the executive committee meeting for today at eleven."
Zoya managed not to look as harassed and miserable as she felt. "Okay, thanks. Will you get Hamza Ibrahim on the phone for me? And will you see if you can reach Ayaan at his hotel in Geneva? If he isn't in his suite, leave a message."
"Who do you want first?" Phyllis asked with her usual cheerful efficiency.
"Hamza Ibrahim," Zoya said. First she would tell Hamza of her decision. Next she would talk to Ayaan, and try to explain. Explain? she thought miserably.
Trying to think of something less daunting, she picked up the phone messages and leafed disinterestedly through them. The fifth one brought her halfway to her feet, her heart beginning to hammer. The message said that Mr. Asad Ahmad Khan had called at 9:10 a.m.
The harsh buzz of her intercom jerked Zoya's attention to the phone, and she saw that both her lines were lit up, their hold buttons flashing.
"I have Mr. Ibrahim on line one," Phyllis said when Zoya answered the intercom, "and Asad Ahmad Khan is on line two. He says it's urgent."
Zoya's pulse rate doubled. "Phyllis," she said shakily, "I don't want to speak to Asad Ahmad Khan. Would you tell him that I want us to communicate with each other through our attorneys from now on? And also tell him I'm going out of town for a week or two. Be polite to him," she added nervously, "but very firm."
"I understand."
Zoya put down the phone, her hand shaking, watching the flashing light on line two become constant. Phyllis was giving Asad the message. She started to reach for the phone; she should at least talk to him and find out what he wanted, she thought, then she jerked her hand back. No, she shouldn't! It didn't matter. As soon as Hamza told her where to go to get a quick, legal divorce, whatever Asad wanted would be irrelevant. She'd arrived at the obvious solution of a divorce"or something like it"in the small hours of the morning, and it made perfect sense. Now that there was no more enmity between them, she knew Asad wouldn't consider carrying out the threats he'd made in the car that day after lunch. All that was in the past.
The light on Asad's call went out, and she couldn't stand the suspense. She buzzed Phyllis and asked her to come in. "What did he say?" Zoya asked her.
Phyllis bit back a puzzled smile at Zoya's complete loss of serenity. "He said he understood perfectly."
Originally posted by: aarzoo50
aur baaki paltan ka bhi res...
naam to suna hi hoga...😉
sab se important baat pg 46 yaaad rakhna and saal mai ek aad baar aakar check krna ye page 🤣
Moma🤗Amna i know tu hamare saath game khel rahi hai res res kasidha updt kar diya kar itne din pehle res karke hume confuse kar deti haichalo iss bar lets see how many days u'll take 2 unres this😆
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