10 Chapter 10/A marriage awaits.

It's been thirty minutes since I locked myself in the bedroom, silent tears of regret falling down my cheeks and onto my lap. I sniff loudly and harshly wipe away the wetness, remorse and guilt nudging at my heart. My skin crawls with the fear of—of liking Aarib. And how Maira could also see it.

I grab my phone from the nightstand, my fingers itching to dial Natalia's number. I don't, however. She would just start the usual crap 'I told you to stay away from him. I told you he is dangerous. I told you to talk to the teacher and get another partner.' Blah blah.

What if I call Aarib and tell him to stay away from me? That sounds like a very—bad idea! My subconscious mocks at me. No. . .that will just make him think he is affecting me in any way possible.

I check the time on my phone. Three hours till the guests start arriving, enough time to stop moping and celebrate my brother's happiness.

Sucking in a deep breath, I pat my cheeks to look a little less like I cried badly and smile brightly before going to the door.

Aarib is not going to sour my mood. He does not get any right to do that.

I skip down the stairs with a bright mood, humming to a tune. Mom suddenly appears at the bottom of the stairs and pins me to the spot with her gaze.

"Where have you been, young lady?" she raises a decent enough suspicious brow at me. Her eyes linger on my eyes maybe noticing that I've cried, but I start playing with my hair to get her attention elsewhere and chuckle wickedly.

"I was in my room watching twilight," I joke, giggling. Why am I giggling? I don't even feel like smiling.

Mom tsk's and shakes her head at me disapprovingly. "It's your brother's nikah today. You cannot stay in your room all day and watch a movie you have seen five times. Also, where is that boy Aarib?"

Stay unaffected. "He went. Said he had something to do and also told me to tell you he was sorry he couldn't stay for longer.�� Blink. Blink. Blink.

A wave of concern crosses her features. "Okay. . .I'll have Azaan deliver the food to him tonight. I wanted him to taste the exotic Asian food, and of course enjoy the wedding."

What! "Mom no! Why would you do that? We barely even know this guy—well I know him from years but you just met him today!" This family is so bizarre!

"We try to be as welcoming as we can, okay? That boy looked so sweet to me!"

I gape at her. "Seriously?" My mouth hangs open in shock. Sweet? Aarib the mafia sweet?

Mom claps her hand three time. "Come on, shoo! Go join the girls in the living room. You don't want to miss out on all the fun." She once again disappears inside the kitchen.

"Are you making the whole sheep?" I call out to her, descending the stairs as I roll my eyes to express my annoyance at Aarib and how he managed to get on the good side of my mom. How does he even do that!

I make a dazzling entrance in the living room which looks just marvelous. Azaan had hung yellow fairy lights everywhere and scattered white rose petals on the marble floor. There was a yellow cloth spread in the middle of the sofa's on which sat my cousins and some neighbors along with

Maira's friends. Three of them were putting on henna. I saunter close and bend down a little, inspecting their skills.

"Where's Maira?" I ask to nobody in particular, frowning at the weird design of henna being put on Saira's hand. Unlike me, Saira looks more than happy.

A girl called Sara or Sana replies, "She went with Hassan to get some last minute things. Also, do you know where they are going for their honeymoon?" Everyone giggles and chuckles except me.

Don't lose calm. "I don't. And that's none of our business."

Sensing it is best for me to just leave that room, I decide to go into the kitchen because boy am I hungry.

Aarib's POV

I stare into the emptiness of the valley, senses on high alert. Waiting for my brother seems like the most difficult task for me at the moment. What's taking so damn long? I take out the cigarette from my jean pocket and light it up, taking a long drag. I start coughing. I always cough for a few seconds when I smoke. And I also kind of hate the taste of it. No wonder why I am always so adamant to do it.

"Since when did my lil bro start to smoke?"

Here we go. I slowly turn around. My brother stands a few feet away from me, hands in his pockets and legs parted as if he really needs to stand his ground. Of course I won't tackle him to the ground this very second, but if he crosses the boundaries, I might not think twice.

"Since it-is-none-your-business," I grit out, barely able to control my anger.

His chuckles makes my skin crawl with anxiousness. "This isn't the family reunion I imagined.

Surely father would be very angry to know you refused to come back to San Francisco."

"You didn't tell him." That's very unlikely of my brother. "Why?"

He bends his head down, his fair curtaining his face. I hear him laugh. A bitter one.

"The more important question is. . .why didn't I tell him about your pretty girl? Man, must I say what a piece she is. That face—"

"Shut your mouth," I bellow. "Not a word about her. Don't dare utter a word about her."

"And why shouldn't I, huh?" Feroze counters back. He takes a dangerous step forward. "She was not supposed to know about any of this. We don't even know how many people she would've already told. You should be smarter than this, Aarib!"

I throw the cigarette to the ground and jam my foot onto it a couple of times, making sure it isn't lit up anymore. My brother just crossed the line by bringing Haya in. He was supposed to leave her out of this. These filthy men were not supposed to know about my—Haya. They weren't supposed to know a thing about her. Maybe if she wouldn't have been so stupid to follow me, things would've been different. A lot different.

"I don't have time to waste on you. You leave Haya alone. Stop trying to get to me because I am not coming with you." Anger starts to brim inside me. My jaw ticks back and forth as I stare into the eyes of my brother. He does not look he would back down easily. Well, bummer. Neither would I.

"You think you can survive on your own? You think you've become this noble man who will be respected in his society? You have a mafia's blood running in your veins, Aarib."

I continue to stare, not backing out at all.

He scoffs. "I came with two options for you. Either Haya dies, or you marry her. The choice is yours to make."

"Dies?" I echo. Has he gone crazy? "She dies or I marry her? What kind of nonsense are talking about?"

"It's not nonsense!" he snaps, as he lunges forward and grabs me by the collar of my jacket, giving me a little shove. His eyes burn with fury when he speaks, "She knows about us. Either she dies or you tie the knots with her. It's as simple." I see it in his eyes that he is not backing off anytime.

"And who made these stupid rules, huh? You?" I level that filth of a man with my eyes. "Whatever you say doesn't mean much to me."

Pain shoots right through my right arm when Feroze grips it harshly. It's as if he wants my attention but doesn't get it quite.

"These rules," he twists my arm, causing me to wince slightly. "Were created by our ancestors. A way to survive. A way to continue our bloodline. You're not just any mundane, Aarib. You're the son of Fahad Jameel." He moves closer. "The son of a mafia."

And just like that he is gone. I stand there limp, feeling as if he pierced a dagger through my heart by giving me the two options. Of course I don't immediately believe him, because I'd have to ask my mom about it too. How foolish could I be to trust one of them when mom had spent my whole life warning me of their tricks. Of their cruelness.

My phone buzzes in my pocket. I grab it out and mutter a foul word when I see the name; Haya.

"Hello?" I hear her sweet voice say, a hint of worry lacing her words. "Aarib, is it you?"

We never exchanged numbers but I had taken hers from a classmate, mainly because I wanted to call her that night when I went at her house to study but left instead. And she followed me. But I never called her and neither did I give her my number, so the fact that she has it. . .

"No, it's her girlfriend. He is currently sleeping."

"Ha ha, very funny." I can practically hear her roll her eyes. "Actually, that was a good one. But I hope you know that I know the difference between a female and male's voice."

I begin walking towards my BMW, my boots making loud crunching noises on the gravel. "Yes, Haya. There's a thing called 'sarcasm'. Ever heard of it? Anyway, why'd you call me?" I wouldn't ask how she got my number. That girl holds more feelings for me than I prefer for any girl to possess, and I don't want her to confusedly confess something that I won't definitely like. Or bare.

"My mom made me call you. She's asking if you'll be free from whatever work you're busy doing by tonight? For the wedding dinner? I mean—my brother's wedding dinner—"

I grin. "Your brother's? Oh I thought you meant your wedding dinner," I joke. Getting on her nerves always seems like a fun idea. I know she doesn't like to be made fun of, but what can I say? I kind of have a thing for her annoyance for me.

Unlocking the car, I get in behind the wheel and rest my head against the backrest, the phone glued to my ear.

I hear her sigh loudly. "Are you coming or not?"

What could possibly happen if I spend some time with her family? I could get really angry, jealous of how she has a perfect house, a perfect family. Something I always yearned for.

"I'll be there in fifteen. Hey, Haya?"

She's silent for a heartbeat. "Yes?"

Coldness seeps in my heart. What I am about to ask her might confuse her further, or just solve all her mysteries. Either way, I have to know this. "Do you love someone?"

"I love many people. My mom—"

"Do you have a love life?" I cut her. Crap. This is getting so awkward. Never in my life did I ever think I would have to ask a girl this question but I am bound here. I cannot let my father's men get to her first. If it means to save her I would have to marry her, even if she loves someone else, I would have to do so.

For whatever reason I both hate and like her. She's unlike any girl I have ever met, and I know how cliché that sounds. Although it was her very own mistake to follow me like an idiotic fool that day and put her life in danger, now I have to pay the price as well. Couldn't she have kept her nose out of my business? Was it that difficult for her?

"You mean do I have a boyfriend?" she clarifies.

I massage my forehead with the free hand against the pain that was growing slowly. "Yes, Haya." I hope she can understand by my voice that she is getting on my nerves now.

"I don't do that boyfriend stuff. Not my style. I'm more like a direct wedding person."

Something weird happens in my chest. "So you're saying you don't love anyone that way?" If this wasn't awkward before, it definitely is now.

"Yes, Aarib! Do you want a written note on that?" A pause. "Why are you even asking me this?"

Because I might have to marry you—crap. . .that sounds bad in my head. "Just curious."

I don't wait for her response and disconnect the line. Then I draw in a long cold breath, a shiver travelling down my spine.

I told her I'd be there in fifteen minutes, and I am a man who likes to be punctual. It'd take around seven minutes to reach her house. I had enough time to make a phone call.

"Hi honey!" my Mom's soothing voice echoes in my ear, instantly calming me down.

I love her beyond any measures, maybe because it has always been her and me as long as I can remember. Memories of her holding me in her arms and rocking me back and forth in her grandma chair flashes through my eyes and as much as my ego hurts to admit, I miss being that little boy.

But now is not the time to relish into them. I need a clear and focused head.

"Hey mom, I have a question."

"Yes, of course. What is it?" she was no doubt in the kitchen, fumbling with the dishes. It was a very distracting background noise, but I stopped myself from saying something.

"Don't panic, okay?" I add before asking my real question, just because even the word mafia gives her a full fledge migraine.

There was no noise on the other end, which meant she is probably sitting on the breakfast bar stool and being very worried. Dear God. Could she at least not be scared about everything?

"Is this some sort of rule where if an outsider gets to know about the mobsters and the mob business, they either have to be killed or someone has to marry them?" Saying that out loud sounded so sick. Pathetic, even. What kind of humans were these?

"Aarib, did something happen?" Mom's reply was quick, probably just like her heartbeat. "Did they try to reach you? Did they find you! Oh God. Please tell me what is wrong."

"Mom," I warn, getting serious and stern. "Just answer my question. Everything is alright. I will explain everything to you once I get home so please don't keep on thinking about it, please."

"Yes. But that's just the rule your ancestors created. This doesn't happen around the world. Or at least I haven't heard of such sick rules." Her voice was shaking. "Do you understand now? This is why I ran away with you because I didn't want you to have a life like that. Nobody deserves a life your father wishes his offspring's to live."

Then why did you leave Feroze, the questions rests on the tip of my tongue. Bad timing. I wouldn't ask her this right away.

"I understand mom. I'll be at a friend's home till late. Don't worry about me."

"Okay, take care and be carefull. I love you."

I hesitate, closing my eyes. I haven't said that back in two years and mom just stopped expecting it now.

I gulp and pull away the phone from my ear, jamming my finger on the end call button.

What was I going to do now? Get married? Start a new life when I haven't even gotten hold of the one I am living alone?

I am a mess. A big, chaotic mess.

Wondering if things could ever get better, I drive off to Haya's house while I think of a thousand ways how I was going to make her understand this situation.

She better be saying yes.