Page 103 of Savage Protector

I should never have come here. Nothing changes.

My father’s not done yet. “Ah, here’s Fareed. He’s been eager to meet you again.” One of Uncle Imran’s sons is heading our way, a hopeful smile on his moon-like face. “I told him you were still unattached. He’s just been promoted at the bank. A junior manager now, you know, with the promise of a company car. And health insurance.”

Good for him.I exchange a somewhat chilly greeting then head off to seek out Zayn. This isn’t working. It’s time to leave.

I jostle my way through into the kitchen, then the dining room, but neither Zayn nor my sisters are anywhere to be seen. I turn to head upstairs, only to be accosted once again by my father.

“That was rude, Leila. Fareed wanted to talk to you.”

“Maybe later,” I begin. “I was looking for Zayn.”

“He’s probably in the kitchen, or?—”

“I checked there. Excuse me, I’ll just?—”

He grabs my arm as I attempt to get past him. “Forget about that individual for a moment. Fareed is family. He’s interested in you, despite…despite everything. You could do worse.”

I stare at him, my jaw dropping. “Are you mad?”

“I want what’s best for you, like any decent father would. A reliable boy, with prospects.”

“I have prospects,” I hiss. “I’m a doctor, fully qualified. I can take care of myself.”

He waves his hand airily. “You wouldn’t need to, not with Fareed. And if you insist on carrying on working for a while, there’s always Little Acorns.”

“I’m a paediatric registrar, not a bloody childcare worker,” I snarl. “Have you listened to anything I’ve told you this last couple of years?”

“Of course, of course, but a father knows best. Let me?—”

“Knows best? You think throwing me into the fucking ocean is ‘knowing best’? You’re not mad, you’re deranged.”

“How dare you use that language in this house? You’ll show some respect while you’re under my roof, young lady, or I’ll?—”

“You’ll what?” I thrust my chin up, right in his smug, arrogant face. “What? What will you do?”

He takes step back. “Leila, please, there’s no need for?—”

“There’s every need,” I hiss. “Because nothing ever changes, does it? Even without Mum and Uncle Abdul to egg you on, you still think you know best. You think you can do whatever you like. You never even listened to a word I’ve said, about my career, my life. Zayn.”

“Pah. That man. A thug. He’ll never amount to anything. And you don’t need a career, not with a good man who’s prepared to take you on.”

“A man like Fareed?” I sneer.

“Yes,” he shouts back. “You could at least consider?—”

“Fuck you, and fuck Fareed.” I shove past him to march upstairs.

Amina meets me halfway. “Hey, what happened. You look…not very well.”

“I’m leaving. Where’s Zayn?”

“Er, outside, I think. In the back garden. He had calls to make.”

“Right.” I spin on my heel and march back downstairs, sweeping past my father when he attempts even now to engage me in some sort of conversation.

“Shut up and get out of my way.” I barge past and head for the back door.

Zayn is seated on the old swing, his phone at his ear. He stands up when I exit the house, and one glance at my face is enough to make him end the call there and then.

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