Amal Unbound(26)

“You’re right,” Nabila said quietly. “I’m sorry.”

“My head hurts,” I said. “I’d like to rest.”

Nabila searched my face before she followed Mumtaz and Fatima out of the room.

Forever.

Mumtaz said I could be here forever. I used to say the walk to the market took forever when the weather was especially hot. And that summers felt endless because I missed school. Only now that I was trapped did I understand the heaviness of forever.

If this was to be my life now, if this really was where I’d be stuck, then I did have to let go of what happened with Nabila. This was what my mother would tell me to do. She would tell me the only one I hurt by holding a grudge was myself. But how could I let it go? The thought seemed as impossible as leaving this gated estate behind me for good.





Chapter 28





I ironed and sorted Nasreen Baji’s clothing the next day while she was out with her son visiting a prospective bride. Even though I knew Jawad Sahib wasn’t here, stepping foot into the open foyer that afternoon left me feeling exposed.

Thankfully, the halls were empty right now.

I was walking down the hallway toward the main verandah to gather fresh flowers to replace the ones in her vases when I heard a knock on the front door.

Bilal hurried down the hallway and looked out the window.

“It’s them again.” He paled.

“Who?” I asked him.

“The p-police,” he stammered. “But Jawad Sahib—he’s gone. What do we do?”

The knocking resumed. Louder now.

Bilal glanced at me and bit his lip before he reached up and unlatched the door. Two police officers in dark green uniforms with brown batons and steel guns holstered at their waists sauntered into the marble foyer.

“Where is he?” the taller one asked Bilal.

“Jawad Sahib?” Bilal asked.

“Well, I’m not here to see you, am I?” the other officer retorted. His mustache was thick like bicycle handles. “Of course Jawad Sahib. Where is he?”

“He’s not here.” Bilal studied the ground. “He is out with his mother.”

“When will they be back?”

“I’m not sure.”

“Good timing.” The taller officer smiled at the other one.

“I have a knack for these things.” The mustached office grinned.

“No harm in taking a look around,” the taller one said. “Might find some fun surprises along the way.”

“We’ll find what we need faster without him breathing down our neck, anyway,” the other one said, and smirked.

How could they openly discuss wandering around and disrupting Jawad Sahib’s property? As if Bilal and I didn’t exist?

These officers didn’t care because it wouldn’t be them Jawad Sahib would blame.

I expected Bilal to stop these men, whose muddy feet were already tracking footprints onto the marble floor, but he stood frozen to the side.

The officers wandered toward the hallway to the left of the spiral staircase, the one with the cream carpet, so difficult to clean.

No.

I was not going to let these police officers get us in trouble.

“Jawad Sahib will not be pleased if you walk around his house while he’s not here,” I called out.

“And who will tell him?” The taller one turned around and studied my face. “You’d be smart to remember he’s not the only one who can leave bruises.”

“If you have a message for him, I can relay it.”

“My message is for you to mind your business. The guards understand this, and the boy over there definitely does. You’d be wise to follow their lead.”

“Yes, go sweep the stairs, little girl. This doesn’t concern you,” the mustached one said.

“It does concern me.” I pointed to their shoes. “You’ve tracked mud into the foyer, and once it gets to the carpet, I can’t imagine anyone, especially Jawad Sahib, will be happy to see your footprints.”

“She’s right.”

Jawad Sahib stood at the front door; Nasreen Baji clutched his arm.

“The girl misunderstood us,” the tall one sputtered. “We were only inquiring where you were.”

“And since when do you arrive unannounced?”

“Forgive us, but the orders came from above; our boss told us to get word to you immediately.”

Jawad Sahib stared at them. “You’d be smart to remember you have more than one boss,” he said.

“Yes, Jawad Sahib, you are right,” the taller officer said.

The vein at the base of Jawad Sahib’s neck throbbed. He strode to the backyard. The officers hurried after him.

“Well done, Amal,” Nasreen Baji said. “That couldn’t have been easy.”

None of this is easy, I wanted to tell her.

My new life was simply about making choices, none of which I actually wished to make.





Chapter 29





I walked into the kitchen with Nasreen Baji’s empty lunch tray that afternoon. When I stepped through the double doors, Hamid was patting down balls of dough while Fatima and Nabila were setting the servant plates and bowls onto the counter.