Epilogue

I walk down the alley, nearly invisible in my traditional cloak. The concrete building, the rundown road and the neutral colored clothing of passers by, make the scene seem like it was painted by a single stroke of brush, doused in grey. The flogger has done his job carelessly, yet elegantly.

Even the sky is grey, thick with clouds that bring the promise of a storm.

A storm that syncs with the storm within.

Bearing with a few annoying comments and perverted stares along the way, I reach the turn towards the street that takes me home. My thoughts drift toward the moment when I knelt in front of the Saith and I remember his intoxicated stare that made my stomach lurch in a unpleasant sort of way. I couldn't believe my father was selling me as part of a business deal, to a man drunk on greed and his desires. Then, maybe I could.

It takes a warm, firm grip around my wrist to shake me out of my thoughts, as I'm tugged helplessly towards a discreet corner within the street. His free hand clasps on my mouth before I could make a sound, and exchanges the position of his grip on my wrist for my shoulders, holding me back against the wall. His movements are quick and fluid, his hold on me firm but gentle. He doesn't look like someone who is about to assault me, but there is a rather urgency in his actions.

The stranger wears a black turban with a veil across half of his face, revealing only his eyes for me to view. Eyes that looked strangely familiar. He wears shalwar kamiz, our traditional attire in a dark blue shade, a color that greatly resembles the night sky.

I try to shake out of the hold he has on me, at which he struggles to maintain it. "Will you stop moving around?" he says, frustrated. With a sigh, he moves his hand to his veil to reveal his face. My eyes widen in shock as my voice becomes lost somewhere in my throat. He is one of the guys in my constantly recurring dream.

"Meet me on the mountain road, when you're ready," He said, handing me a burner phone with a button dial pad. "The answer to your questions will be waiting for you.''

Amira's Pov

One from the hearts those are pure,

One from the minds that are cunning,

One who has rebellion embellished within her soul,

One shall rise from the oppressors, destroying them from within,

A bigger picture.

A higher purpose.

The Greater Good.

…

This dream feels like a vision, like an inevitable interwining of fate. I take a deep breath, throwing aside my bed covers. It's time to face the real world. I walk towards the opulent bathroom, with my silk robe trailing behind me. The familiar white and gold décor welcome me, as I strip down and step into the bath tub. The water cascades down my body, calming my nerves and relaxing my muscles, important to keep up a cool façade throughout the day. After completing all the steps of my morning beauty routine, I dry my feet on the towel besides the tub and come out of the bathroom to find my bed already made and an outfit prepped and laid out on the feet of the mattress.

It's a Sana Safina's three piece Lawn suit, black with floral patterns embroidered on the left shoulder as well as across the bottom of the shirt. Bold buttons adorn the middle of the plain fabric, and a similar floral pattern is embellished on the border of the trousers, to synchronize it with the shirt but to a much lesser extent, to keep up with the decent vibe. It comes with a vibrant, magenta silk scarf, with digitally printed bigger and bolder designs using colours that complement the outfit.

The outfit screams sophistication.

I blow dry, my freshly washed hair that now shone in the sunlight streaming through the windows. Putting on a soft cut crease look on my eyes, allows me to go bold on my lips. I use the same shade as my scarf, and accessorize the outfit with stud earrings, a black designer clutch and stilettos that add a few, unnecessary inches to my height.

I take on last look at my reflection to make sure everything is perfect, and surprise, surprise, surprise. It isn't.

Problems and Solutions

Ali's POV

I make a guess at who she might be as I climb up the sloping ground, making my way to the cottage. Occasional bumps appear from protruding rocks and grass covers the edges of the rough and constantly turning pathway, surrounding one side of the valley. Big villas and mansions are littered across this secluded valley, though at distances much far apart and at irregular intervals, as the whole purpose of taking refuge in a seldom found nature's embrace, was hard-earned privacy. Taking a break from routinely affairs and habits that bind us to a never ending circle of responsibility and expectations, helps us to focus on things that truly matter in life. I've seen politicians, celebrities and any other person who the world deemed worthy of attention, whether positive or negative, leaving their whole lives behind to seek refuge in a place that was still untouched by majority of the population, though that is changing gradually as it grabbed the attention of wandering tourists, and their numbers are still increasing.

Peace is never found in places and objects build by the human race. Maybe one can achieve a sense of achievement, or even pleasure, once they've acquired them but never the sense of tranquility we unconsciously yearn for. I learned that the hard way.

We turn towards the sky for solutions to problems here on earth. Isn't it obvious to retreat before it's too late?

With a nod of greeting to Chacha Demir, who stood in the shade of the palm tree he so lovingly planted, I enter my humble bode. Well, as humble as a mafia second in command could get. The architecture is kept as rustic and minimal, keeping it as close to nature as possible. The stone staircase climb into the living room, furnished with textured beige tiles, black leather and crème velvet couches that surround the stone fireplace. Dark brown and white walls are adorned with bookshelves that were filled when I was on my spiritual leap that held word of many Sufi personalities along with adventures from the past, give a warm and cozy outlook to the whole area, while a grey granite countertop separates the open kitchen from the rest of the lounge. I remove my leather sandals, before emerging my feet onto the silken fur of the rug that is laid before the burning hearth.

"What did I say about bringing shoes inside the home?" AbdurRahman Baba, the house keeper asked sternly, as I got comfortable on the couch, resting my head back. "Sorry," I replied embarrassed, leaning myself on my knees and rubbing my neck. "Did Salman come around this morning?" I picked up my shoes and placed them on the stairs, before washing my hands and face in the sink. "Not today, he didn't," he replied, making his way into the kitchen and poured juice into a glass. "He said, the work load was too much." I snorted, as he handed me the glass of juice. Work load, my ass. Still, this was to be expected. Right now, my concern was her, not him. I saw as recognition filled those doe eyes of her.

I've watched her for far too long now, to know the uncertainty lacing her steps, like she knew something was amiss. A mask to hide the strength she did not even know was there.

"One who has determination embellished within her soul."

Your majesty

Salman's POV

Sipping my coffee, I lean back against the tree, waiting for Amira to come. The students, whose classes have yet to start, are either standing or sitting over the campus grounds emerged in conversations, while some are already making their way towards them, wanting to get a head start or a seat in the back row, whatever suits their desires. Meanwhile, I'm standing here like some sort of a shady person, (not that I cared what someone thought of me, it was just becoming an inconvenience at this point)and trying to uphold a patience level, way beyond my usual capacity. Just when I thought I couldn't take it anymore and started heading for the class, she made her dramatic entry. The driver opens the door for her to step out, as the speakers' blast out an upbeat music. One hand holds a Starbucks coffee, while the other holds up her Gucci glasses preventing them from falling. All heads turn toward her, her presence demanding attention, each movement oozing elegance. She was the daughter of the current prime minister, after all. She ignored the eyes of the entire student body that turned towards her, as she made her way towards me. The students averted their stares; the carefree conversations reduced to hushed whispers and furtive glances thrown our way. Not that it bothered us in anyway; we had become used to this kind of behavior a long time ago. We threw dirty jokes and rude remarks at each other, knowing all too well that nothing we say can offend the other. We chose a bench at the edge of the ground, that was well away from prying eyes.

"Anyway, did you prepare for the Math's test today? Or is education too mediocre for your majesty?"

"Actually, I didn't" she said, resting her head in her hands. "I was too caught in the party meeting today. They keep bringing up last minute issues, just as we are about to launch a project. The funds are low, shortage of labor, middle man inconveniences… I mean, were they all sleeping when it was actually being discussed?"

I can only imagine what she must be going through. The burden lying on her frail shoulders were far too much than she should have to bear. Being the face of the government, it would be her who'll have to the answer for the blunders of the so called professionals who were actually responsible for the check and balance of the project. The only thing that they kept an eye on was their already loaded pockets that were filled unfairly by the money of the public. Even if we do manage to get a fair and just government, the corruption was too deep rooted in our systems to be cleaned, by a group of people considered to be the authority. This war had to be fought by the whole nation.

"Hey, listen," I said, keeping a gentle hand on her shoulder. "Party issues and Math tests are too little to hinder you from becoming the leader you were meant to be."

"Thanks, Salman," she said, her frown dissipating and replaced by a smile. "Now that we are done with our therapeutic session, can you give me a quick review of the main concepts?"

"Sure thing," I said, taking the pencil and note pad from her hand. "There's only one main formula that we'll be using, you only need to know the technique of tweaking it according to the need of the question…'