FF: All the Right Moves - Chapter 14, page 129 - COMPLETE - Page 20

CHAPTER FIVE

"What are we going to do, Zoya?" Najma wipes away her tears. "We don't know what Rohan wants, we can't risk upsetting him by asking and we can't turn to Bhaijaan for help. We have no idea where Rohan goes and we don't have a way to find out. How do we save Ammi?"

Her voice breaks on a fresh wave of tears. Zoya rises up onto her knees and hugs her.

"It's going to be okay," she soothes. "We're not helpless, Najma. We have access to the most powerful tool in the world. We just need to use it properly."

"We do?" Najma pulls away to look at Zoya, her eyes cloudy with worry. "What tool?"

"Information." Zoya gets up to start pacing again. "Everything around us, computers, smart phones, television, the internet, everything is to allow us to communicate, to know, better and faster. My entire education was to teach me how to communicate with computers and how to use that information."

Najma shakes her head. "But how does information help us?"

"We've been looking in the wrong place to learn about Rohan. Searching his room told us nothing because he was prepared to hide his secrets. Even an internet search isn't going to give us much. He has a professional team to run his social media sites and his official webpage. Rohan is a pro at managing how people see him. In fact--" Zoya gasps and her mouth drops open. She looks dumbstruck.

"Zoya?" Najma comes over to her. "What's wrong? What are you thinking?"

"The newspaper ad!" Zoya grins widely. "Rohan was shocked by the SportsMaXXX ad!"

Najma shakes her head. "I'm not following you."

Zoya takes her hands. "Rohan controls his image but he was genuinely shocked by the newspaper ad, right?"

Najma thinks back. "Yes, he seemed very upset and sincere when he told Ammi he hadn't authorized that advertisement."

"Rohan has been working with SportsMaXXX for years." Zoya resumes pacing. "The company wouldn't risk ruining their relationship with him by putting out advertisement that upsets their star. They ran the ad thinking they had his approval. So someone close to Rohan, who makes decisions, had to have authorized it."

"His agent," Najma suggests. "Rohan said he was going to talk to his agent to demand an apology and a retraction, remember?"

"Allah miya, that's it!" Zoya bounces up on her tip-toes. "That's the weak link. That's where we hack him."

"What?" Najma shakes her head. "I don't understand."

"I hack computers for a living, Najma." Zoya grins widely. "I do that by constantly going at a site from different points until I find or create a weakness. It's the same with human beings. The agent is Rohan's weak point. He allows his agent to act on his behalf. Rohan said that he was meeting with his agent today which means his agent is here in Bhopal, right?"

"Right." Najma nods.

"Rohan pays people to protect his privacy but his agent can't be that private. He has to have a webpage to advertise his services, legal proof that he's authorized to act for Rohan and multiple communication methods, such as cell phones, e-mail addresses, media links and social networking sites."

"So far I'm following," Najma says, her brows drawing together.

"Rohan is here for charity work, right? Why does he need his agent in Bhopal?"

"For business deals," Najma answers. "Rohan is an important brand ambassador with all his promotional appearances and endorsement deals. His agent has to stay on top of them."

"Wouldn't that be easier to do from his office in Mumbai?" Zoya's raises her eyebrows.

"Well...yes, I think so." Najma frowns as she considers. "He would have his office staff and all his client files at hand in his office. So Rohan's agent is here because of some deal that's so important he has to handle it in person. But what kind of endorsements would Rohan have in Bhopal? And why would they involve sneaking around our house? How are we interfering with his endorsements?"

"We won't know that until we identify and follow his agent." Zoya snatches up Najma's laptop. "He'll lead us to what Rohan's up to. His agent's name has to be public knowledge. I bet you took his picture while he was at the stadium with Rohan."

Najma watches over Zoya's shoulder as her fingers fly over the keyboard. It takes her only minutes to identify the agent and find his webpage.

"His name is Arun Sharma," she reads. "Does he look familiar?"

"Yes," Najma confirms. "I remember him because he was wearing a suit and tie while everyone else was casually dressed. He was at the sidelines the whole time Rohan was on the field. But he didn't go back inside with Rohan."

"Really? That's odd." Zoya considers that information. "Where did he go? Why would he leave his client like that?"

"Maybe he knew Rohan was going to disappear," Najma suggest. "Perhaps he arranged it and used the time to work on other things, knowing Rohan was out of the public eye. He'd have called the police if Rohan really disappeared without his knowledge."

"True," Zoya continues to read from the website. "According to the company fact sheet, Arun and Rohan have been working together for three years."

"That's when Rohan started to rise in the cricket field," Najma says. "Before that, he used to drink heavily and get into trouble. Then, one day, he started to pull himself together and focus more on his game than his groupies."

"SportsMaXXX is his oldest sponsor." Zoya points to the on-screen blurb. "They both became popular at the same time. There's no way a company that is so closely associated with Rohan would upset their superstar by putting out advertising without his full authorization."

"Which they got from his agent," Najma continues. "Who probably also signed releases for Rohan in the past."

"And who's in town now brokering some new deal." Zoya snaps the laptop shut. "That settles it. We need to follow Arun Sharma."

"How?" Najma demands. "He maybe more visible than Rohan but we still have the same problems. We don't have a vehicle to follow him, we don't know how to find him and it's unsafe for women to go into unfamiliar areas to chase a man they don't even know."

"So we need someone who has transportation, knows the city well, moves around freely and can be motivated to find out what Rohan's up to." Zoya looks at Najma. "Who do we know who can help us?"

"No one." Najma flops down onto the bed. "Most people I know have jobs or school and families to care for. Who has the time or desire to wander around the streets of Bhopal, looking for trouble?"

"I wish you had a scooter." Zoya sits down beside her. "This would be so much easier if we could ride in and around traffic ourselves."

"But I don't." Najma sighs. "Even Bhaijaan doesn't have his motorcycle anymore. He gave it to--"

She stops suddenly, her eyes widening.

"What?" Zoya demands. "What's wrong?"

"Bhaijaan!" Najma bounces up and down excitedly. "Bhaijaan can help us!"

"Your Bhaijaan?" Zoya repeats. "Allah miya, what's wrong with you, Najma? Your Bhaijaan is too akdu to help us. We can't tell Mr. Khan anything about what we're doing. He'd throw Rohan out in a heartbeat if he knew what we know."

Najma shakes her head. "No, Zoya, I didn't mean--"

But Zoya is too wound up to listen to her. "We have to keep Mr. Khan completely out of this. Completely. We have to act like nothing's wrong when he's around. Anyway, he doesn't even have a motorcycle anymore. You told me before he gave it to your Ayaan Bhai --" Zoya stops. "Oh. You mean your Ayaan Bhaijaan, don't you?"

Najma nods enthusiastically. "Yes! Ayaan Bhaijaan has a motorcycle, no responsibilities, lots of free time and has explored every corner of this city. And, with every girl in Bhopal fixated on Rohan, he has motivation to discover what Rohan's hiding."

Zoya jumps up from the bed. "Do you think he'll help us?"

Najma considers. "I think so, especially if you press on how Rohan is getting all the girls. I hear Ayaan Bhaijaan is a terrible flirt."

"Okay." Zoya grabs Najma's cell phone. "Let's call him now."

Najma looks stricken. "Zoya, I don't have his number."

Zoya stares. "You don't? How do you get in touch with him?"

Najma's eyes darken. "I never have. Only he and Bhaijaan talk to each other."

Najma ducks her head, her mouth pulling down at the corners. Zoya watches her with sympathy then puts her hands on Najma's shoulders.

"No matter," Zoya says firmly. "I'll get Ayaan's number from your brother."

"How?" Najma demands. "Bhaijaan will ask why you want it. You can't tell him!"

"I won't," Zoya assures her. "Don't worry. I'll get Ayaan's number without telling Mr. Khan anything."

"Really?" Najma looks doubtful.

"Of course." Zoya shrugs nonchalantly. "I simply have to approach him the right way."

"Uh-huh."

Najma still looks unconvinced but allows Zoya to tug her off the bed. They return to the living room. Najma goes back to her studies while Zoya walks casually to Asad's bedroom. She knocks politely.

"Come in!" Asad barks from the other side of the door.

Zoya opens the door and leans in. Asad is sitting at his sofa, laptop open in front of him. Zoya remains in the doorway and looks around his room carefully, even rising up on her tip-toes to try to see past him.

"What do you want, Ms. Farooqui?" Asad demands without looking up from his work.

Zoya flattens onto her heels and tries to look innocent. "Umm, well..."

She steps into the room and looks around again. Asad has removed his jacket but is still wearing the rest of his business attire. His suit jacket lies beside him but his cell phone is not in sight.

Asad gets up to meet her. "Did you want to talk?"

His voice is a low growl and his eyes are very dark as he looks down at her, arms crossed behind his back. Zoya doesn't notice, still focused on searching for his cell phone.

"Talk about what, Mr. Khan?" She tries to look past him again.

The intensity fades from Asad's eyes as he watches her actions, her eyes shifting around, avoiding his gaze. He matches her frown.

"I thought we could discuss what happened before you stormed up the stairs." Annoyance sharpens his voice. "And maybe this time you could be calm and rational."

She stops searching and turns to him. He sighs and uncrosses his arms as he realizes how his words translated to her.

"Oh really?" She puts her hands on her hips, her attention now focused on him. "Meaning I'm not usually calm and rational? Fine. Do you want to discuss where you called me an idiot or when you yelled at me? And you'll have to clarify which time because that's how every conversation between us goes."

"For the last time, I did not call you an idiot, Ms. Farooqui." He rubs his brow. "I yelled because I was upset that you and Najma went wandering off without telling anyone your plans. I was worried about you."

"We were together, we stayed in public, we had our cell phones and we have functioning brains," she snaps back. "Allah miya, what's wrong with you, Mr. Khan? Why is it that you have no faith in me?"

"I have complete faith in you, Ms. Farooqui." He speaks through gritted teeth. "It's the rest of the world I don't trust. There's always somebody trying to take you away from me!"

Zoya jerks at the harsh intensity in his voice. Her eyes widen and her gaze locks with his. His eyes are as dark and as hot as burning coals and his breathing is ragged and audible. He leans in so close his body heat wraps around her like invisible chains.

She draws a deep breath as she takes a step back. This time Asad advances, refusing to allow her to put more space between them. The air around them crackles with energy as his anxiety shoots off almost visible sparks. She steps back again and stumbles into the door behind her. He reaches past her and shuts it, leaning on the glass to keep it closed.

Zoya flattens against the panels and looks from his hand pressed beside her head to his determined expression. She swallows hard. "Mr. Khan, this isn't the time. Please understand--"

"Asad! Zoya!" Dilshad's voice calls out. "Where are you?"

Asad looks up. Zoya takes advantage of his distraction to respond.

"We're coming, Phupee!" She tugs on the door knob. "Open the door, Mr. Khan."

For a second, Asad keeps his weight against the panel but then he steps back and allows her to open it. Zoya doesn't look at him as she plasters a bright smile on her face and goes out to greet Dilshad.

Her smile freezes in place when she sees Rohan with Dilshad. He smiles at her, gorgeous and polished as always. Dilshad also smiles but her features are strained.

"Welcome home." Zoya crosses to them. "How was your day?"

Dilshad puts her hands to her temples. "It was exhausting. The press and fans wouldn't leave us alone, even after Rohan left for the stadium. I've had a headache all day."

Najma comes to her side. "Shall I make you a cup of tea, Ammi?"

Dilshad nods. "That would be wonderful."

Zoya hurries into the kitchen. "I'll make tea. Najma, you take Phupee to her room and check her vitals. The stress might have raised her blood pressure."

"Blood pressure?" Rohan's gorgeous glow dims. "Dilshad-ji, are you sick?"

"Ammi was hospitalized a few weeks ago." Asad's voice is as sharp as a whip as he crosses to Dilshad's side. "Her doctors told her to rest and not take on unnecessary stress. Najma, turn down her bed and get her medicines."

"I'm fine," Dilshad insists. "It's just a headache."

She smiles at Najma and cups her cheek. Najma is pale but she nods and hurries upstairs.

"Dilshad-ji, I'm so sorry." Rohan presses his hands together. "Why didn't you tell me my visit would cause you so much stress?"

"I'm absolutely fine," Dilshad soothes. "My family worries too much. I'll rest for a while and be as good as new. I'm just not used to having such a big crowd and cameras following me at every turn."

Rohan grimaces. "I'm sorry about that. I hate it, too."

Dilshad pats his hands. "But those crowds and cameras help improve funding and support for the orphanage. The donations have been pouring in since you announced your visit."

"Really?" Rohan smiles, not his blinding professional smile, but the little-boy grin that spreads across his face and crinkles around his eyes.

"I'm going to rest for a bit." Dilshad squeezes Asad's arm then looks over to Zoya. "Will you be okay to make dinner without me, Zoya?"

"Of course, Phupee." Zoya sets out a cup and saucer on the tea tray. "You relax and don't worry about a thing. You know there isn't anything Zoya Farooqui can't do!"

Asad snorts softly but wisely keeps his mouth shut. He takes Dilshad's arm and guides her up to her room. Zoya finishes assembling the tea service. Rohan comes to her.

"May I help?" he asks.

Zoya nods towards the refrigerator. "There are fresh ginger cream biscuits on the bottom shelf in the fridge. Will you get them for me?"

Rohan retrieves the cookie box. "I don't think I've ever had homemade ginger cream biscuits."

"Try them," Zoya urges. "It's my own recipe."

Rohan pops one in his mouth. "Mmm. Zoya, these are amazing."

"I'm glad you like them. I created them after Phupee described a cream biscuit she had when she was a little girl. These aren't the same as those fancy cookies but they are delicious."

Rohan artfully arranges the little confections on a dessert plate. "That's because these are made with love. Even the most expensive ingredients won't make a good dish if the cook doesn't care about the people she's cooking for. You care and it comes through in your food."

"Really?" She gives him her heart-stopping dimpled smile as she carefully pours the hot tea. "You think so?"

Rohan stills, the amusement fading from his expression. "Trust me. I know so."

His pale blue eyes darken to cloudy grey. Suddenly the polished superstar fades and a lost, lonely little boy shows through. Zoya freezes at seeing the transformation.

"Oh!" Zoya drops the tea kettle and shakes her left hand.

The little pot rolls around, splashing hot tea all over the tray. Zoya and Rohan both jump back to avoid the liquid.

"What happened?" The little boy disappears and Rohan, the grown man, is back.

Zoya shakes her hand again. "I spilled tea on myself."

Rohan takes her wrist and guides her to the sink. He turns on the cold water and holds her hand under the flow. "Does it hurt? Would you like me to get you ice or a first aid kit?"

"No, it's fine. I was just startled." She tugs but Rohan doesn't release her.

"What's going on here?"

Asad's sharp voice makes them both turn. Zoya tugs again but Rohan keeps their hands under the flowing water.

"Zoya burned her hand pouring tea."

Asad's annoyance turns to alarm. "Let me see."

Zoya tugs a third time and finally Rohan lets go.

"It's nothing." Still she holds out her hand for Asad to inspect.

He takes her left hand in his and leans in so close that his bangs brush her forehead. He gently runs his fingers over the angry red marks. She flinches and he looks up, his eyes dark and concerned. Their gazes meet and everything else - Rohan, the running water, even Zoya's burn - is forgotten.

"Does she need a first aid kit?"

Rohan's voice breaks their connection and they spring apart, avoiding Rohan's assessing eyes. Asad crosses his arms behind his back and looks away.

"No, it's fine." Zoya quickly turns off the water, dries her hands and cleans up the tea tray. "I'll be right back."

She takes the tray up to Dilshad's room. Dilshad rests in her bed while Najma puts away the blood pressure kit.

"Blood pressure is normal," Najma says cheerfully.

"As I told you, it's just a little headache." Dilshad sits up in bed to receive the tray. "I'm fine. Now please go back to your work."

Both girls nod. Najma heads for the door but Zoya takes her arm to stop her. Najma looks at her inquiringly.

"Phupee, was Rohan with you this afternoon?" Zoya asks with careful casualness.

Dilshad blows delicately on her tea to cool it. "No. He was there the whole morning then left for the stadium. I didn't see him again until I came home. His driver dropped him off a few minutes earlier."

Zoya and Najma exchange startled glances.

"He was here?" Zoya confirms. "He was at the house when you came home?"

"No, he was just inside the gate, on his phone when I came. He was pacing back and forth and looked upset."

Zoya frowns thoughtfully. "Do you know why he was upset?"

"No." Dilshad sips her tea. "His face was tight and drawn but he smiled and ended his call when he saw my car pull up. Then he opened my door and escorted me in. He's very polite and well-behaved, isn't he? The orphanage does a wonderful job of raising the children."

The girls agree then leave Dilshad to rest. Zoya bites her lower lip, deep in thought, as they walk down the hall.

"You want Rohan's cell phone, don't you?" Najma whispers as they go downstairs.

"We may not get much from it," Zoya warns. "If he's this careful with his luggage, he's probably as careful with his phone. My guess is he brought along a clean phone that doesn't have any personal information on it to communicate with his agent. But it's worth checking out, just in case."

"So now you have to get both Bhaijaan's and Rohan's phones, don't you? How will you do that?" Najma frets.

"I'll find a way. I always do," Zoya assures her.

The living room and kitchen are empty. Asad and Rohan's door are both shut. Najma goes to her books in the living room. Zoya pulls out pots and pans to being dinner. Rohan's door opens and he leans out.

"Are you making dinner?" he asks. "May I help?"

Zoya smiles at him. "Are you telling me you're a world-class chef as well as a first-rate waiter?"

Rohan comes into the kitchen. "I'm not that good but I am competent."

"Oh, really?" Zoya hands him a butcher knife and an onion. "Let's see what you can do."

Rohan takes them from her. "Cutting board?"

Zoya raises her eyebrows but takes out the board for him. Najma looks up from her books to watch as Rohan halves the onion. In seconds, he peels off the outer layer and cuts the vegetable into paper-thin slices with the speed and efficiency of an electric food processor. Zoya and Najma are open-mouthed. Rohan sees their reactions and grins.

"And you thought I was just a pretty face, didn't you?" he teases.

"Allah miya! How did you learn to cut like that?" Zoya demands.

"By working in the kitchen at the orphanage. You learn to cook fast when there are fifty hungry mouths staring at you, waiting for their food."

"You did the cooking?" Najma comes over to join them.

"I helped the cook. We all did what we could to help out." Rohan puts the knife down and looks around. "What else do you want me to do?"

"No, nothing." Zoya takes the knife from him. "I was only teasing you. You're a guest. You don't have to make your own meals."

Rohan's face falls. "But I want to help."

"You'll help a lot more by not giving my mother unnecessary stress." Asad's voice is as cold and as sharp as the blade in Zoya's hand.

They all turn to see him standing in his bedroom doorway, his arms folded across his chest. Asad's eyes are dark and watchful, focused like lasers on Rohan. Rohan also stiffens, standing very straight and tall. Zoya and Najma exchange panicked glances.

"So, Rohan, tell us about your day," Zoya speaks up hurriedly. "Did you have a good time at the orphanage?"

Rohan relaxes and smiles at Zoya. "Yes, I did. The kids are great. They're all happy and well cared for. The staff is doing an amazing job."

"Your support really helps," Najma says. "Knowing you lived there and rose to such fame and success inspires everyone."

"More than that, it's that you're still a part of their lives that makes them proud," Zoya adds softly. "Having someone the whole world admires care about them gives them a self-worth they can't achieve any other way."

Rohan's eyes narrow. "It sounds like you know something about being an orphan."

Zoya looks away. "No, I'm one of the lucky ones. I have a family."

Asad crosses the room in three large strides. "Yes, she does." His voice is dangerously low. "One that will protect her against anything."

The tension immediately spikes as Asad and Rohan face off against each other. Rohan opens his mouth but Najma speaks before he can.

"Rohan, your performance at the cricket club was amazing. I've never seen the stadium so crowded." She speaks to Rohan but looks worriedly at Zoya.

Rohan continues to glare at Asad but responds to Najma. "It's my job to give the fans what they want to see."

"And what they want to see is you taking off your clothes?" Asad interjects, his voice as cold as ice. "Isn't your athletic skill enough? Is that why you have to throw your shirt into the stands and pose for disgusting advertisements?"

Rohan turns on Asad. "I throw my shirt into the stands because my sponsor wants people to wear their brand. And I didn't pose for that SportsMaXXX advertisement. It was a composite of other images and aggressive airbrushing. I told my agent not to authorize any more pictures like that."

Zoya and Najma exchange meaningful glances. Asad sees them and his eyes narrow. Rohan is too annoyed to notice their sudden fixed attention.

"He also refused to allow any new publication of composite images and called the orphanage director to apologize for any embarrassment it caused. What more do you what?"

Rohan takes an aggressive step towards Asad. The air between them crackles with electrified energy. Zoya and Najma stiffen in alarm but Asad remains calm.

"I want you to remember you're a guest in our home." Asad shifts within arm's reach of Rohan. "Everything you say or do while you're here reflects on us. This is my family. It's my responsibility to protect them. I want you to know that if you do anything to hurt them I will make sure it's the last mistake you ever make."

Rohan's hands curl into fists. Asad glances down and raises his eyebrows, unimpressed by Rohan's aggression. Again, Zoya and Najma exchange worried looks and again, Asad catches them.

"Why are you two looking at each other like that?" he demands. "What are you up to?"

"We're helping Ammi," Najma responds immediately, her eyes widening at his sharp tone.

"And the orphanage," Zoya adds quickly. "This week being a success will make Phupee so happy. That's why we went to the stadium today to support Rohan."

Rohan turns to them, his fists uncurling. "About that. I wanted to tell you how much it means to me that you two came out today."

Zoya laughs. "Rohan, between the fans in the stands and those people outside, there were over sixty thousand people there to see you. Everyone came out."

Rohan shakes his head. "They didn't come to see me. They came out to see the celebrity cricketer. They would have reacted the same way if they saw Sachin Tendulkar or Mahendra Singh Dhoni."

Zoya sucks in her breath at the mention of MSD. Asad glares at her but Rohan grins.

"Yes, just like that." Rohan nods. "That's how most people react to me. They either just stare or expect me to perform tricks, like a trained monkey."

Asad snorts. Rohan ignores him and focuses on the girls.

"They don't see me, they see the image. They don't know or care about me. Those people haven't laughed with me or shared their homes with me or tried to pour syrup into my coffee."

Zoya grins then slaps her hand over her mouth to hide it. Najma giggles but Asad rolls his eyes, unimpressed.

"You didn't go to see the celebrity." Rohan's smile is warm and gentle. "You two went to see me, Rohan, the guest who's staying in your house, didn't you?"

Zoya and Najma look at each other then nod guiltily.

"Thank you," Rohan concludes simply.

Zoya and Najma continue to stare at Rohan, their eyes wide and dark. Asad frowns at them. Rohan calmly plucks the knife out of Zoya's hand.

"What's next?" he asks. "What are we making for dinner?"

"You don't have to help," Zoya protests. "I'm fine cooking on my own."

"I'm here and I'm available," Rohan points out. "Why not use me?"

Asad stiffens behind him. Zoya hurriedly grabs a hunk of ginger root.

"Here." She holds it out to Rohan. "Will you peel this for me?"

"I need a smaller knife." Rohan turns the root over in his hands. "I'll waste too much if I use this big knife."

"Does it make such a difference?" Zoya takes out a small paring knife for him.

"Remember how I told you our meals were boring when I was at the orphanage?" Rohan scrapes away at the tough peel. "They were only boring until one of my orphanage brothers got a job throwing out garbage at a fancy hotel."

"Oh?" Zoya places more vegetables on the board for him to cut. "He used to bring home meals for you?"

"No, he used to bring home the garbage for us," Rohan says calmly.

Zoya and Najma stare at him in horrified shock. Even Asad's mouth drops open.

"Garbage?" Najma repeats on an airless whisper. "You ate garbage?"

"It wasn't like that." Rohan laughs. "You won't believe how much good food restaurants throw out. Patrons don't just pay for the meal, they pay for the presentation. Everything has to be uniform and perfect. Take this ginger root. It's all bumpy and odd-shaped. That's not allowed in fine restaurants. They have to cut everything to be the same size." Rohan demonstrates by cutting a neat square out of the center.

Najma looks down at the cutting board. "But so much is left over."

"Exactly!" Rohan gathers the smaller pieces together and finely dices them with neat, practiced strokes. "The restaurants couldn't use the odd bits or fruits and vegetables that were even a tiny bit overripe or bruised." He finishes cutting with a flourish of his knife. "But we could. After that, all the older brothers started checking the garbage behind the big hotels and fancy restaurants."

Rohan smiles. "The restaurants didn't give us trouble because we were cleaning up for them. And we finally had some variety and spices in our meals. Sometimes we even had enough vegetables to make mixed sabzi. Those were real treat days!"

Rohan start on the other vegetables, unaware of the stricken glances Zoya and Najma exchange. Tears fill their eyes and they turn to Asad. Asad is silent, his previous animosity easing away. He frowns and shakes his head slowly then glances meaningfully at Rohan. The girls see Rohan is smiling, happy in the memories, and blink back their tears.

"That's where I learned how much effort goes into making good meals." Rohan focuses on cutting, his voice still light and cheerful. "And how love and care turned even the most basic food into a celebration." He finally looks up and grins, his eyes clear and sparkling, still lost in his memories. "Life became a lot happier when we started looking forward to preparing and sharing a good meal."

Zoya forces herself to smile. "It sounds like you had some wonderful times with your brothers and sisters at the orphanage."

Rohan nods. "Yes, I did. We didn't have parents but we had each other. We made our own family."

"Do you still keep in touch with them?" Najma asks.

Rohan's smile dies and his eyes become grey and cloudy. "No." He looks down at the cutting board, hiding his expression. "I haven't had contact with them for a long time."

Najma and Zoya again turn to Asad, their eyes pleading with him. Asad nods.

"So using a cutting board is how you stay physically fit?" Asad's voice is deliberately light. "Personally, I prefer to go to the gym."

Zoya and Najma watch Rohan. As they hoped, he looks up, amusement fading the clouds in his eyes.

"Cutting vegetables isn't aerobic but kneading dough builds serious muscles," Rohan teases. "No, actually I have a workout room at home. Which reminds me, may I borrow your boxing set? I really like boxing to keep my arms in shape."

"Sure." Asad gestures for Rohan to follow him. "I have some other equipment you might like, too. We can check in the storeroom."

Rohan looks at Zoya. "Do you mind? We'll only be a few minutes then I'll be back to help you with dinner."

Zoya stands very straight, her eyes wide. It takes her a few seconds to find her voice. "No, I don't mind at all. Take your time." She smiles. "There'll be plenty for you to cut when you get back. I plan to make full use of your kitchen skills while you're here."

Asad frowns at her but Rohan laughs. Najma watches as Rohan follows Asad around the corner then goes over to Zoya.

"Rohan is amazing," she marvels. "He's had such a hard life but he's still so cheerful and positive. Maybe we were wrong about him."

Zoya shakes her head sadly. "No, Najma. We weren't wrong about him."

Najma frowns. "What do you mean?"

"He may be cheerful and positive, but he's still up to something." Zoya sighs heavily. "Rohan just admitted to searching our house."

Najma's eyes widen in stunned shock. She opens her mouth to reply but stops when Rohan comes back to join them. She quickly schools her face into a polite smile.

"Back so soon?" she asks.

"Asad had a phone call. We'll look through the storeroom after dinner." Rohan picks up the paring knife and looks at them expectantly. "So, how can I help?"

Zoya and Najma exchange glances.

Rohan smiles at them. His sweet little-boy grin lights up his face, changing him from merely gorgeous to almost angelically beautiful. Even so, something dark and bitter tinges the edges of his pale blue eyes, giving them their first glimpse of the ugliness living inside the nearly-perfect shell of Rohan Saxena.

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!

Also, thank you to everyone posting replies, sending me friend requests and wrote private messages. I've added everyone who wants PM's to my friends list. Please feel free to join if you would like me to let you know when new chapters are posted.

I hope you're enjoying my work. Thank you for reading.

Paly

Chapter 6: https://www.indiaforums.com/forum/post/97828871