Petal by petal
I'm falling apart,
Couldn't you decide
without destroying me
whether you love me or not?
                                    -words.
______________________________

I wake up tangled in Maaz's arms. My head rests on his shoulder and his arms are around me. I must have been disturbed last night, those are the only times Maaz breaks his promise and shifts the pillows from between us to around us. I don't remember the nightmares that have haunted me. Perhaps it was Numair or my baby or Anna or Lisa or all of them. I slip out from the circle of his arms after a lot of effort.

Now that the party is over, I can focus on Lisa. It was like searching for a needle in a haystack. I had no idea where to start. If I put up an advertisement, would I get a response? Or would it be plain creepy? Why would a woman ask about a girl she has no relation with. Truth be told there was no genetics or blood that would prove my relation to Lisa. Ironic how the world believed in science but not in the genuineness of love. Because science has facts and love has no scientific evidence.

'Why isn't Maaz home yet?' Ziyan grumbles from the couch for the tenth time. He had arrived an hour ago.

'He doesn't come home this early.' I respond patiently to him.

'He left office two hours ago. He leaves early every day. Where else would he go?' Ziyan states. I hadn't known Maaz left early. I thought he worked late. How come I didn't know?

You didn't bother to get to know him. The annoying little voice in my head informs me.

'Why can't you ask someone else for help?' I point at his laptop.

'I can't, this guy is the pro. He's a genius with this thing.'

'Really?' Too many things I don't know, I realize.

'He's the head of the software programming team in the office.' We fall silent after that.

Fifteen minutes later Ziyan goes back to the first question, 'Why isn't he home yet?!'

'Let's take a walk.' I tell him, opening the French Windows to lead him outside.

I introduce him to our kitchen garden, pointing out green, baby tomatoes which will turn ripe soon. My fascination with seeds, soil and emerging plants bores him, his eyes keep wandering to the driveway. Half an hour later I give up and we retreat inside.

'I'll give him a call.' I tell Ziyan and head to my room. I stop short as I find Harry crouched inside. He stands upon seeing me, he holds up his phone.

'Got it.' He says breaking into a grin and pockets it. He looks over my shoulder, searchingly.

'What are you doing inside my room?' My voice is sharp.

'I was looking for Maaz.' He responds nonchalantly as if invading people's bedrooms is normal.

He holds up his hands and backs out of the room. I follow him into the living area.

'Next time you could try the doorbell, he will come to you himself.' I say.

'I heard switching off the wifi does that too, make people come out of their rooms.' Ziyan interjects from the couch. Harry shoots a smile at him.

'Sorry, tell him I said hello, perhaps next time.' He says and leaves the house.

Harry has never visited our house before, his intrusion and sudden departure leave me perplexed and uncomfortable.

'What was that about?' Ziyan speaks up.

'No idea.'

'I think I'm with Maaz on this one. There's something off about him.'

'He only appears intimidating.' I downplay it.

'Are you staying for dinner?' I ask Ziyan.

'Are you making chicken roast with fries and dessert?' I roll my eyes at him.

'Chocolate pudding.' He adds after a minute.

'Sure that's exactly what I was going to make.' I say sarcastically.

I head to the kitchen to get going Ziyan's elaborate dinner. The bell rings, another minute later keys twist in the lock and I hear Maaz greet Ziyan.

'Finally.' Ziyan exclaims.

Maaz enters the kitchen. He has his suit folded over on one arm, two buttons of his white shirt are left open from the top, his tie hangs loosely. He has discarded his shoes. In his other hand is a bouquet of white lilies, he presents it to me.

'You come in peace?' I ask with a smile, caressing the white petals.

An hour later I have placed the chicken inside the oven and put the pudding inside the fridge to cool.

'Smells delicious.' Ziyan walks into the kitchen, his nose stuck out, sniffing.

'I miss your cooking, sis.' He says solemnly.

'Where's Maaz?' I deflect the sentiment out of habit.

'He's in the study.'

'Your laptop?'

'All fixed.' He grins. 'He's a genius. I'm lucky you married him.' He says as if I married for him.

'That I am.' Maaz confirms walking into the kitchen with a wink at me. He hands me a small brown sealed envelop.

'What is this?'

'Open it.'

I slide my fingers under the seal to tear it open.

'It came through.' I whisper. Maaz nods slowly, looking at me as I scan the papers.

'Hello, Zara Nadine.' He tries the sound of my new name. Not technically new since it was my maiden name before I married Numair.

After our argument, we had arrived at a compromise that I wouldn't take his name or keep Numair's but go back to my name.

'Nadine.' I say softly.

'Dina.' He says, perhaps thinking about his mother. Ma had nicknamed me Dina from Nadine. She'd said Zara was already too short to make a nickname from.

'Do you know Dina means love?' He says suddenly as if he only remembered it now.

'Harry was here to see you.' I blurt out. My heart hammers in my chest. Dina means love. He calls me Dina. What does that mean?

'Harry? See me?' I have succeeded in averting him.

'He said he was, but I found him inside the room.'

'Bedroom?' His eyebrows knit together. 'Why would he go there?'

I shrug and begin to dice the carrots for salad. Maaz sets the table. After a scrumptious dinner Ziyan takes leave. Maaz retires to the study and I settle down with a book.

'Are you going somewhere?' I look up from my book, Maaz is wearing his shoes.

'Adjacent, to see Ira.' He replies.

I abandon the book once he leaves, I am heading to my room when my eyes fall on the study. The room Maaz spends so much of his time in. I had never entered it. Curiosity gets the better of me and I pad down to it, glancing at the partition door ensuring he isn't back.

Soft yellow light falls into the corridor from the slightly left open door. This was rare as most times the doer was shut. I wonder if it was also locked. But why would it be?

I quickly enter, a large bookshelf adorns the left wall. In front of me is a large desk, with a comfortable looking brown leather chair. Adjacent to the door is a small rustic coffee table and chairs, resembling logs of wood. The center of the front wall is occupied by a humongous map of the world. The room looks pretty in its rustic tones and ancient ambience. I must say Maaz has a good taste or his interior design does.

My feet sink into the new, soft carpet as I approach the bookshelf. The musty smell of paper, new and old mixed with wood draws me to it. My fingers trace the spines, business administration, law, computers, software, programming. What all does this guy read!

I head to the dominant object in the room. On the large mahogany table, his laptop lays to the side, several files are stacked and a book lays open, The Art of Deception. I idly tilt the laptop and play with the mouse, the screen illuminates. I gasp when I see his screensaver. It's me sitting in the backyard of my house disturbed from sleep, after a nightmare. I am in my rumpled pajamas, one hand holding up my chin, deep in thought, in the stark darkness my pale skin stands out. The night when Maaz was staying over and he had joined me later. In a way that was the first time we really talked, uncensored.

I feel as if I am intruding his privacy by being here. This space seems personal. I was curious but not snoopy, I begin to head out, my fingers trail on the table. I think I hear the sound of the door and my hand jerks.

A file falls face down onto the floor. I pick it up quickly. Before I can shut it and place it back my eyes catch the picture that stares back at me. Small, brown eyes, hair softly curled and falling on his forehead, prominent nose and his soft lips in a thin, grim line. He did that when he disapproved of something. I wonder why he had that expression in a picture. It takes me another minute to flip the pages only to find his name staring back at me on every page.

There are so many cutouts from newspapers, official documents, police reports of the accident and numerous pictures. Pictures of the crash, of a black sedan which I assume to be Numair's, and of Numair lying in a pool of blood as life seeps out of him.

Information that even I didn't know. I never read newspapers, my hate for them was personal. Mostly because I lived in denial of the accident and of his death. I did not want to believe it to be true and so I ignored all else which would prove it to be true. Including choosing to skip his funeral.

My fingers sift the glazed papers. It was like looking at a documented version of Numair's life. From his birth certificate to death certificate. Every official copy was filed and arranged here.

My heart thuds with fear as I uncover things I hadn't known.  My eyes rove hurriedly over each paper making no sense of the file before me. A whole file dedicated to Numair? What was it doing inside Maaz's study? How did he even get so many documents? Maybe these weren't the originals yet getting a copy would also be a task.

The door opens wide to reveal Maaz, his mouth opens and then shuts. He strides into the room and I see him in a new light. Perhaps this was not my best friend. Doesn't time change people? How much more is he hiding from me?

I keep staring at him, eyes wide still unable to comprehend. My hands are frozen, palms facing upward as the weight from it is lifted. He slides the file out of my hand and chucks it on the table. I watch his throat bob, his hands approach mine and I take a step back.

'Zara...' He protests as I take another step away from him.

'Where did you get all that?' My voice is sharp.

'I can explain.'

'Why would you hide it from me?' My voice rises to a shout. He takes a small step in my direction. I dodge him and reach the door shuddering with anger. A stupid little voice in my head is doing the 'I told you so' dance. My hand clutches the door tightly the grain leaving its imprint on my palm.

'Wait.' Maaz pulls the door before I slam it shut.

'Who are you?' I whisper before stalking off to my room and bolting the door. A thousand thoughts flit inside my head like buzzing bees. My head pounds with frustration and hurt. I open the drawer to grab my sleeping pills which I had thankfully picked up from home. I wait for me to succumb into a dreamless reprieve.

Bright light falls on my face blinding me, I wake up from the bed. Habitually, I look over to the other side of the pillows to find it empty. Last night comes crashing down, I groan as I realize it was not a mere nightmare which would be washed away with daylight.

I hurry to dress up wondering where to start this time. Trust was the foundation for any relationship. And presently it was very hard to continue to trust Maaz. To think that I was actually getting along with him. I hurl a pillow onto the floor in frustration.

Breathe in. Breathe out.

Let us focus on Lisa, I decide. Maybe I should start searching for her. I go over my dilemma, how would I explain the relation I had with her was something beyond genetics? Something which no DNA test or certificate can prove. So what if I don't have a piece of paper to certify my love. My love isn't subjective to a certificate.

With renewed courage, I open the door of the bedroom. A heavy weight slumps down on my feet. I almost scream, confused innocent blue eyes filled with sleep blink at me rapidly. I stare at him, he lies sprawled in front of my door blocking my way. It takes him a while to orient and then get up on his knees and grab my hands. Space clears for me and I push past him.

In my haste, I trip over my own feet and land on the floor, my bottom screams in pain. Instead of laughing at me like any normal person, Maaz, ever the good boy puts his hands under my arms from behind to lift me onto my feet. His kindness makes it so hard to stay mad at him.

He doesn't let go of my arms instead he wraps them around my waist, lowers his head, raising his hand to wind into my hair, winding them around his fingers, 'Good morning.' His voice is deep, ridden with sleep making it sound huskier.  I shiver.

'Morning.' I respond curtly, trying to uselessly wiggle out.

'Let me go.' I snap.

'Never.'

'Can you shut with the nicety? Mistakes don't get rectified by merely sleeping outside my door, or... or by a morning hug.' I finally break free of his grasp, my hands flail around as I fume at him.

'If I apologize?' He is one persistent person. His patience exhausts me. Why couldn't he yell at me too?

'I'm going home Maaz.' I stomp inside the room and begin to throw my clothes together. I needed space from him. I had to think before I did anything else.

'This is your home.' He sighs defeatedly.

***

A/N : Thoughts?
Any predictions of where this is going?
Don't forget to vote! It does matter :)

Hope.