Page 61 of The Circle of Exile
“She tried to hold my arm but I kept running. I thought Shehzad or somebody would come behind me, I kept looking back, nobody did.”
Atharva’s face hardened, if that was even possible.
“She did not follow you?”
“No.”
He crossed the space to their door, unlocked it and left the room, clicking it shut behind him. Just like that — one second there and the next, gone. Iram stared at the closed door. Her body was beginning to wilt. She walked to the bedside and drank down the glass of water. She glanced at the clock. It was just past 11. She wouldn’t feel sleepy even if her eyes were droopy. Exhaustion was a real, living thing inside her.
She opened the window and stuck her face out in the cold autumn wind. It was freezing. The smell of wet pine and banked fire of the guards assailed her nostrils. She exhaled through her mouth. Breathed in through her nose, breathed out through her mouth.
“Janab is leaving,” a holler sounded. Iram recoiled. A security guard ran from under their bedroom window around the house.Leaving? Where?
Iram whirled and rushed out of the room. She took the steps to the attic, fast and frantic. She threw the door open, breathing in the stale air until her hands had reached for the small window and pushed it wide. It opened out to the front of the house and she stared in horror. Atharva’s convoy was ready. He was striding out of the house in his work pants and home T-shirt, pulling on a coat, Altaf beside him.
He pushed inside the car door held open for him and the moment his door was snapped shut, the convoy flew out of the porch. Like a serpent with shiny fangs and tails, the line of cars wound through the stretch of road leaving their house through the tangle of jungle and to the main gate. And from there, Iram couldn’t see anything anymore.
He was gone. No ‘I am leaving,’ no ‘goodbye,’ no ‘I’ll be back.’
13. How the hell did she let my wife go?!
“How the hell did she let my wife go?!” Atharva thundered.
“Down, he is asleep,” Amaal whisper-screamed.
“I am telling you that Saba saw her that day and let her go without telling anybody and you are telling me to keep it down!”
“Atharva, he is on sleeping pills. I swear if you wake him…”
“I’m already awake.”
Atharva’s gaze flicked to his friend/ foe/ family’s saviour. Samar was standing on the doorframe of his bedroom, rumpled with sleep but alert. His compression clothes were absent, the loose shorts and nothing else on top, leaving his melted skin open to the elements. Four months weren't long enough to start leaving his wounds open. Or were they?
“Sorry, go back to sleep,” Atharva cocked his head.
“Too late. What are you doing at 12 in my house? Screaming about Saba.”
“My Press Secretary happens to sleep on your couch and she needs to come with me.”
“Where?” Samar limped out, not caring that half his body was lined in scars.
“This does not concern you,” Amaal ordered him. “Go to sleep.”
Atharva stared at him because when did he ever listen?
“Where are you taking Amaal at 12 in the night?” Samar trudged into the hall of his flat and took a seat on one of the dining table chairs. The rented flat had been his home ever since he had moved out of the outhouse, and it looked exactly like his face. Unblemished.
“Secretariat.”
“Why?”
“Ok, you two can talk like I do not exist. I’m going to sleep. Feel free to leave when your party for two is over. Goodnight.”
Amaal began to reach for her pillow and shawl when Samar got to his feet — “Sit, Amaal.”
“You sit,” she snarled, looking just as worked up as he felt. Atharva sighed — “Sit. Both of you.”
Twin shocked eyes reared to him and he glared.
